dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
Mahābhārata, Adi Parva 56.33)
2.5: The War Begins
The warriors on the Pāṇḍavas’ side had watched and waited as Arjuna spoke with Kṛṣṇa. Obviously he had been overcome by uncertainty. No doubt seeing his beloved grandfather and teacher had filled him with apprehension. Now he seemed to have regained his resolve. He was again standing in position on his chariot, with the Gāṇḍīva held high. The Pāṇḍava warriors sent up a great shout. They blew their conches and beat their drums. Horns and bugles sounded continuously and uproariously.
In the sky assembled the hosts of ṛṣis, Siddhas, and other classes of celestials--all wanting to witness the battle. They gazed in wonder at Arjuna’s chariot, amazed to see Kṛṣṇa acting as his charioteer.
Seeing that the battle was about to begin, Yudhiṣṭhira took off his armor and climbed down from his chariot. His brothers and the other warriors watched as he walked toward the Kauravas. What did he have in mind? Had he suddenly decided to be humble and hand over a bloodless victory to the Kuru forces? All his brothers called out to him, asking him about his intentions, but the king made no reply. Unarmed and unprotected, he walked straight toward Bhīṣma’s chariot.
Kṛṣṇa spurred on Arjuna’s white horses and the chariot moved closer to the cars of Bhīma and the twins. “I know your brother’s intentions,” He said. “He intends to pay his respects to his gurus before fighting with them. It is said in the old histories that one who first offers his respects to his elders and teachers before engaging with them in battle gains victory.”
As Yudhiṣṭhira approached Bhīṣma, shouts of “Alas!” were heard among the Pāṇḍava forces, who thought that, in the face of such tremendous opposition, he had decided not to fight. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons thought that Yudhiṣṭhira was afraid. “Just see this infamous wretch,” they laughed. “Stricken with terror he has gone to Bhīṣma to beg for his mercy.” Disregarding their jeers, Yudhiṣṭhira went before Bhīṣma, who got down from his own chariot as Yudhiṣṭhira approached. The Pāṇḍava bowed down and took hold of Bhīṣma’s feet. “O invincible one, I bow to you,” he said. “We will fight with you. Please grant us your permission and give us your blessings.”
Bhīṣma smiled and raised his right hand. “O ruler of the earth, O great king, if you had not come to me in this way, I would have cursed you with defeat. I am pleased with you, dear son. May you fight and obtain victory. Ask for a boon, O son of Kuntī--anything you desire. Alas, men are the slaves of wealth, but wealth is no one’s slave. I am bound by the wealth of the Kurus and like an impotent man I stand against you in battle, although I know your cause is just. Tell me, dear child, what you wish to have from me.”
Yudhiṣṭhira felt tears coming to his eyes. “O wise one, desiring my welfare, please look after my interests. Do your duty and fight for the Kurus’ sake. This is my wish.”
Bhīṣma appeared despondent. “Although I must fight for your enemies, O King, tell me what I can do for you.”
Yudhiṣṭhira folded his hands and bowed his head. “O sire, there is one thing I will ask. Tell me how we will be able to vanquish you, who are invincible. If you see any good in it, please give me this information for my benefit.”
Bhīṣma stood with his large, silver-gilded bow in his hand. Although he was now almost ninety years old, he was still a formidable figure in his polished gold and silver armor. He placed a hand on Yudhiṣṭhira’s shoulder. “O descendent of Bharata, I do not see that man who can defeat me in battle, even if he be the lord of the celestials. The time for my death has not yet come. Approach me again and ask this question at some other time.”
“Be it so.”
Yudhiṣṭhira again bowed to his grandfather and then walked away. Making his way through the lines of curious soldiers, he went to Droṇa. After circumambulating his chariot he said, “O invincible hero, tell me how I may fight with you, my worshipable teacher, without incurring sin. How, O great Brahmin, will I be able to vanquish my enemies?”
Like Bhīṣma, Droṇa said, “O King, if you had failed to come to me, I would have cursed you with defeat. I am pleased with you, sinless one. You have my permission to fight. May victory be yours. Please tell me what I can do for you. I desire to give you a boon. Alas, I cannot fight for you, for I am a slave of the Kurus’ wealth, but I will pray for your victory.”
Tears again sprang to Yudhiṣṭhira’s eyes as he heard Droṇa’s affectionate tone of voice. How cruel a fate that he should now be forced to fight his esteemed and elderly guru!
But Droṇa would be difficult to overcome. Despite his advanced years, he knew the secrets of all the celestial and earthly weapons. He could still fire an unending stream of arrows from his great bow. Yudhiṣṭhira could not imagine anyone even approaching him in battle. With reverence he said, “O Brahmin, do pray for me and tell me also what is good for me. Fight for the Kurus with all your might. This is my desire.”
Droṇa looked lovingly at his disciple. Although not as physically powerful as Arjuna or Bhīma, Yudhiṣṭhira was strong in his ability to remain fixed on the path of virtue. Droṇa knew that a pious man was always protected by his virtue. He glanced at Arjuna’s chariot across the field. “O king, your victory is certain. You have Kṛṣṇa as your counselor, and righteousness is always with Him. Where there is Kṛṣṇa, there must be victory. O son of Kuntī, go and fight with full confidence. What else will I say to you?”
“O mighty-armed one, please tell me how you may be defeated?” Yudhiṣṭhira asked.
“As long as I fight, you will not obtain victory, O King. Therefore, seek my death at the earliest opportunity. But there are none who can face me when I am fighting. Neither man nor celestial can stand before me when I am angry and scattering an incessant shower of arrows in all directions. O Bharata, only when I lay down my weapons and am prepared for death, with my senses withdrawn, will you be able to kill me. This is the truth. Having heard something disagreeable from some credible source, I shall abandon my arms and cease fighting.”
Yudhiṣṭhira bowed to his preceptor. Thinking about what he had said, he walked toward Kṛpa’s chariot. After offering respects to the old Brahmin warrior, he said, “O teacher, only with your permission can I fight without incurring sin. Please permit me to engage in battle to defeat my enemies.”
Like Bhīṣma and Droṇa, Kṛpa replied that he would surely have cursed Yudhiṣṭhira to be defeated if he had not come to him for his permission. He also lamented his obligation to the Kauravas. Having stated his inability to fight for him, he asked Yudhiṣṭhira what else he could do for him.
As he stood before Kṛpa, Yudhiṣṭhira felt as if his heart might break. First Bhīṣma, then Droṇa, and now Kṛpa--all three were like fathers to him and his brothers. From their childhood when they had first come to Hastināpura, these elders had cherished and taught them with the greatest care. He could not recall a single cruel word or deed from any of them. Now he must go before them and ask how they could be killed. Yudhiṣṭhira stood with his head bowed. His throat was choked and he could not say anything.
Understanding his plight, Kṛpa said, “O King, no one can kill me. Knowing this, go and obtain victory.”
Kṛpa’s father, Gautama Ṛṣi, had told him that he would be invincible in battle. Therefore, he advised Yudhiṣṭhira not to waste time trying to bring about his fall. Lifting his right hand in blessing, Kṛpa continued, “I will rise from sleep every day and pray for your victory. I say this truly. Go now and obtain your desires.”
Yudhiṣṭhira went at last to Śalya. After asking his permission to fight with him, he stood with folded palms, looking up at his maternal uncle. Śalya sorrowfully replied, “The Kurus’ wealth has made me their slave. What can I do for you under these circumstances? I wish to bestow a boon upon you for your having come to me in humility. What do you desire?”
Yudhiṣṭhira reminded him of his promise to discourage Karṇa when it came time for him to fight with Arjuna.
“It shall be so,” Śalya answered. “Go and fight. I will pray for your victory.”
Yudhiṣṭhira bowed to Śalya and then returned to his army. Witnessing the respect and honor he paid to his elders, even the Kauravas praised him. Cries of “Excellent! Bravo!” were heard among the soldiers on both sides. As they thought on the noble qualities of Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, the soldiers wept aloud.
After he was again stationed on his chariot, clad in armor and ready for battle, Yudhiṣṭhira called out to the Kauravas, “If any among you wishes to choose us, we will consider you our ally. Come then to our side.”
There was silence and no one moved. Then from out of the Kaurava ranks emerged Yuyutsu’s chariot. “I will fight for you,” he shouted. “O sinless one, will you accept me?”
“Come, come,” replied Yudhiṣṭhira. “Fight with us against your foolish brothers. O Yuyutsu, we accept you into our ranks. It seems the thread of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s line, as well as their last funeral offerings, will rest upon you. O prince, accept us who accept you. The wrathful and foolish Duryodhana will not survive.”
As drums and cymbals were sounded, Yuyutsu went over to the Pāṇḍavas’ side. Duryodhana glared in silent fury at his half-brother. Yuyutsu had never shared his feelings toward the Pāṇḍavas. That had been obvious enough from their frequent disagreements. But how did he dare abandon his family in their hour of need? He would regret this foolish decision.
Seeing that the moment of battle had arrived, the warriors on both sides began to shout in exultation. Now they would die and be elevated to the heavenly realm, or they would emerge victorious. To the sounds of thousands of conches, trumpets and drums, the warriors rushed at each other with uplifted weapons. The earth shook and clouds of dust rose into the air as they advanced. They sounded and appeared like two great oceans coming together. Bhīma’s cries rose above the tumult as he raced ahead of the Pāṇḍava forces roaring like a bull. Hearing his shouts, which drowned out other sounds, the Kaurava soldiers became afraid. Horses and elephants passed urine and excrement, faltering as they ran. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons were struck with terror as Bhīma came toward them, his mace whirling above his head. Bhīma laughed at his frightened foes. At last the moment had arrived. Now he could finally release the full fury of his anger.
Taking heart, the Kauravas shouted out their own battle cries and waved their bows in the air. They surrounded Bhīma and began firing snake-like arrows at him. Laughing as the arrows glanced off his armor, he struck other shafts down with his mace. Bhīma shook off their attack. He replied with thousands of his own arrows, dispersing the Kaurava princes in all directions.
Abhimanyu and Draupadīs sons, along with Nakula, Sahadeva and Dṛṣṭadyumna, advanced in a body and tore into the Kaurava forces, scattering arrows everywhere.
Neither side flinched nor turned back from the violence as they hurled their weapons at one another. The twang of bowstrings and the slap of strings hitting leather arm-protectors and gloves was heard everywhere. The air was full of swift-flying arrows. Spears, darts, and iron balls fell upon both armies in the thousands. The blare of conches, the lion-like roar of warriors, the heavy tread of infantry, the neighing of horses, the clash of weapons, the clatter of chariot wheels, the jingle of bells around the elephants’ necks, the elephants’ trumpeting, and the beating of drums mingled to produce a hair-raising uproar. Recklessly the warriors rushed forward.
Arjuna immediately engaged with Bhīṣma. With lightness of hand he fired countless arrows at him, but Bhīṣma countered them all. He returned numerous shafts at Arjuna. Even though Bhīṣma’s arrows pierced him, Arjuna did not waver. Nor could he shake Bhīṣma, as he sent at him his own deadly shafts. The two heroes exchanged arrows while the fight raged around them.
As the battle got under way, the sky began to flash red and blue, while black clouds showered flesh and blood onto the field. A terrible wind blew, carrying innumerable stones and afflicting all the troops. The loud rumble of thunder resounded and bolts of lightning struck the earth.
Powerful chariot-warriors engaged with other chariot fighters, while infantry battled infantry and horsemen engaged with other mounted troops. The warriors sought out their marked enemies. Bhīma assailed Duryodhana; Sahadeva--Śakuni; and Dhṛṣṭadyumna--Droṇa. As other kings and kṣatriyas came to their aid, the battle became general and weapons flew in all directions.
On both sides of the armies divisions of Rākṣasas marched. Ghaṭotkaca led a division of Rākṣasas on the Pāṇḍavas’ behalf and the powerful Alambusha led the Rākṣasas for the Kauravas. These awful beings created a huge carnage among the soldiers as they wielded their axes and bludgeons.
The warriors fought as if possessed by demons. No quarter was shown. Amid the terrible confusion, fathers could not recognize their sons, brothers their brothers, nor friends their friends. Uncles slew their nephews and cousins killed cousins. Men hacked and struck at one another with swords, spiked maces, and heavy clubs. Streams of blood flowed freely across the ground, carrying mutilated and severed limbs. Chariots smashed against chariots, breaking them to pieces, while elephants tore into other elephants, gouging them with their steel-tipped tusks.
The battlefield assumed the appearance of Yamaloka, the abode of Death. Men screamed in pain, sounding like souls condemned to hell. The bodies of slain warriors and animals lay everywhere in heaps. Axes and swords dripping with blood whizzed through the air. There was a continuous loud thudding sound as heavy maces and swift arrows struck the bodies of soldiers.
Bhīṣma fought with fury. His tall standard, bearing a palm tree and five stars, glided through the Pāṇḍava army, leaving a trail of bodies and shattered chariots in its wake. With his straight arrows he severed the heads and limbs of all who came before him. The old Kuru hero seemed to dance in his chariot as he whirled about wielding his bow. His deadly shafts were fired with such power that they would pierce even great elephants to their vitals, sending them tumbling to the earth.
Seeing the destruction Bhīṣma was causing, Abhimanyu rushed toward him shouting out a challenge. Bhīṣma was protected by five maharatha heroes, but Abhimanyu attacked them all. Firing arrows that flew with blinding speed, he held off Bhīṣma’s protectors while simultaneously attacking him. With one well-aimed arrow, he cut Bhīṣma’s bow in two. Another three arrows cut down his standard, which fluttered to the floor of his chariot.
Witnessing Abhimanyu’s lightness of hand, even the celestials were pleased. The warriors who saw him considered that he was in no way inferior to his father. His bow, which sounded just like the Gāṇḍīva, seemed like a circle of fire as he continuously released arrows. As the god-like prince spun in his chariot, his shafts appeared to be leaving his bow in all directions at once.
Under attack, Bhīṣma gathered himself and fought back. He wounded Arjuna’s son with nine arrows, then cut down his standard with three more. Kṛtavarmā, Śalya and Kṛpa, who were among Bhīṣma’s protectors, all assailed Abhimanyu, but they could not make him waver. He repelled their attack while maintaining his assault on Bhīṣma. The warriors witnessing the fight all praised Abhimanyu’s prowess, calling out “Bravo! Well done!”
Bhīṣma covered Arjuna’s son with thousands of arrows. As he increased the ferocity of his attack, a number of other Pāṇḍava heroes, headed by Bhīma, came to Abhimanyu’s aid. All of them aimed their weapons at Bhīṣma. Not the least perturbed, Bhīṣma sent his long golden shafts at all of them.
The prince of Virata, Bhuminjaya, also came to support Abhimanyu. Śalya attacked him and a fierce battle ensued between the two fighters. Bhuminjaya was mounted on a huge elephant and he rushed at Śalya, wielding a lance. The elephant placed its foot onto the yoke of Śalya’s chariot, crushing and killing the four horses. Remaining on his chariot, Śalya took out a large iron dart and hurled it at Bhuminjaya with all his strength. That dart pierced his armor and went into his chest. The prince fell lifeless from his elephant, his hook and lance falling from his hands. Śalya jumped down from his chariot. Raising his sword he brought it down and severed the elephant’s trunk. As the great beast fell dead, Śalya quickly climbed onto Kṛtavarmā’s chariot, being praised for his heroism by all the fighters present.
Bhuminjaya’s brother, Sweta, saw Śalya kill his brother. Blazing with anger, he rushed at the king of Madra like an infuriated elephant. Seven Kaurava warriors came forward to check him, showering him with arrows. Sweta countered the shafts and, with seven broad-headed arrows of his own, cut all his assailants’ bows in two. The Kaurava fighters angrily hurled darts at Sweta which flew toward him like fiery meteors, but with razor-headed shafts the prince cut down the missiles before they could reach him. With still more arrows he wounded his attackers and sent them reeling in all directions, their standards cut and their bodies mutilated.
Sweta continued toward Śalya, and it appeared as if Death personified had come for the Madra king. Seeing him advance, Bhīṣma quickly placed himself between Sweta and Śalya. Thousands of horsemen and charioteers had come to Sweta’s aid and Bhīṣma began to pick them off with his unerring shafts. As he fired his uncountable golden arrows, the son of Gaṅgā seemed like the blazing sun with its rays in summer. As the sun dispels darkness, Bhīṣma dispelled the foes who surrounded him. Soon, the many chariots he had deprived of warriors flew aimlessly about the field. Impetuous horses carried youthful riders killed and hanging from their saddles. Hundreds of slain warriors lay on the ground, their armor shattered and their heads and arms cut off.
As Bhīṣma slew the Pāṇḍava troops, Sweta killed large numbers of the Kaurava army. In his fury, none could stand before him. After some time only he and Bhīṣma remained facing one another. They attacked each other like two enraged lions. Showers of arrows sped through the sky like golden-winged birds. Each fighter wounded the other. Sweta, with blood flowing from his wounds, fired twenty-five arrows into Bhīṣma’s body. He then cut Bhīṣma’s bow with another ten arrows. With still more arrows he killed Bhīṣma’s horses and charioteer.
Without hesitating, Bhīṣma took up another bow and jumped down from his chariot. He continued fighting the prince on foot. Sweta then took out a golden dart and called out, “Wait only a moment, O Bhīṣma. I will slay you at once.” He hurled the dart, which fell toward Bhīṣma like a comet. The many warriors watching the fight cried out, “Alas! Bhīṣma is slain.”
Bhīṣma, however, was not slain. He sent eight arrows at the dart and cut it into fragments. He fought on with the prince, who became senseless with fury as he saw his dart checked. Sweta took up a huge spiked mace and rushed toward Bhīṣma. Gaṅgā’s son, mounted on a fresh chariot brought by his aides, considered the attack unstoppable. He leapt clear of his chariot just as the prince brought the mace down upon it. The force of the blow smashed the chariot, standard, horses and charioteer.
Bhīṣma got up on another chariot and resumed his attack on Sweta. The prince had now mounted his own chariot and Bhīṣma advanced toward him. As the two warriors closed on one another, continuously releasing weapons, Bhīṣma heard a voice from the sky: “O Bhīṣma, O mighty-armed hero, the time fixed for Sweta’s destruction has arrived. Fight on with all your power and gain victory.”
Bhīṣma looked at Sweta. He was flanked by numerous Pāṇḍava warriors, among them Bhīma, Abhimanyu and Sātyaki. Encouraged by the divine voice, however, he attacked Sweta alone while parrying the other attacks. Coming close to the Virata prince, he took up an arrow which resembled the rod of death. He placed the golden shaft, decked with gems, onto his bow and drew back the string to his ear. Imbuing the arrow with the force of the Brahmā weapon, he released it to kill Sweta.
With a flash like a thunderbolt, the arrow struck the prince on the chest and passed clean through his body. It entered the earth like a snake going into its hole, carrying with it the hero’s life. Sweta fell from his chariot like a peak loosened from the summit of a mountain. The Pāṇḍavas sent up cries of lamentation, while the Kauravas shouted joyously. Duryodhana and Dushashana danced in delight. They repeatedly praised Bhīṣma as the loud music of trumpets and drums sounded.
The sun was slowly disappearing over the western horizon and Arjuna and Dṛṣṭadyumna withdrew their troops. The two armies entered their respective camps for the night, the Pāṇḍavas cheerlessly and the Kauravas laughing and shouting. As darkness fell, thousands of vultures and jackals came onto the battlefield, their cries mixing with the sounds of the warriors withdrawing.
2.6: Yudhiṣṭhira’s Fear
Sañjaya finished his description of the first day’s battle. Dhṛtarāṣṭra smiled as he heard of Bhīṣma’s incomparable prowess and the slaying of the two Pāṇḍava heroes. Perhaps destiny would favor his forces after all. It was hard to imagine anyone overcoming Bhīṣma in battle. Feeling a surge of hope, the king said, “Your words are pleasing for they describe our victory. The old Kuru chief Bhīṣma is ever devoted to my interests and will never abandon his prowess. My heart feels no shame on remembering our transgressions against the Pāṇḍavas. But that itself is shameful.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra fell silent again for some moments. Sighing, he continued. “Even hearing of our success I cannot condone the battle brought about by my foolish son, O Sañjaya. What good can war do for anyone? Apart from my wicked sons and their equally evil advisors, I do not think there were any who approved of this fight.”
The king’s mind swung between hope for his sons and sorrow at the thought of the Kurus’ inevitable death. Sometimes he was overcome by despair as he pondered on the Pāṇḍavas’ power and virtue. And then there was Kṛṣṇa. Today’s report was encouraging, but Arjuna had still to exhibit his prowess, as had Bhīma and the other Pāṇḍava generals. Many would die before the outcome was settled. He did not doubt that. How could his sons survive?
Waving away the servants who were fanning him, Dhṛtarāṣṭra shook his head and said, “Victory will doubtlessly attend the righteous, Sañjaya, but is our case so clearly wrong? Should not the throne have been mine? Does not Duryodhana have the foremost claim to sovereignty, even over Yudhiṣṭhira?”
Sañjaya did not respond. It had long ago been established that Pāṇḍu was the rightful monarch. Dhṛtarāṣṭra was born blind and that disqualified him from ruling the kingdom. Pāṇḍu’s sons were thus the rightful inheritors of at least half the kingdom, if not all. Sañjaya knew that Dhṛtarāṣṭra cursed his blindness and considered it an unfortunate quirk of destiny that had denied him his rights. In Sañjaya’s mind, it was clearly the Lord’s arrangement. There were none who could match the virtue and kindness of the Pāṇḍavas. The earth could have no better rulers--especially if the alternative was Duryodhana and his brothers.
Struggling with his inner conflict, Dhṛtarāṣṭra went on dolefully, “But there can be no excuse for the cruelty my sons meted out to the Pāṇḍavas and their chaste wife. Soon we will see the fire of their anger blazing on the battlefield. O Sañjaya, thinking of their anger, incited by Duryodhana, I am restless both by day and by night.”
Seated at the feet of his master, Sañjaya spoke frankly, but with affection. “You are the cause of the Kurus’ present plight. Why do you blame only your son? Your present remorse is like the building of a dam after the water has escaped. Listen as I describe how events are unfolding at Kurukṣetra. You will soon be consumed by a lonesome regret as this war takes its inevitable course.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra fell silent as Sañjaya again began to describe the events at Kurukṣetra.
* * *
After arriving back at camp at the end of the first day’s fight, Yudhiṣṭhira called a council of war. He consulted with Kṛṣṇa, who sat by his side, wearing golden armor and a jeweled helmet. “O Govinda, behold how the powerful Bhīṣma is consuming my troops as fire consumes dry grass. How can we even look at him as he releases his celestial weapons? Seeing him stationed on the battlefield, my troops are flying away in all directions. Perhaps we may defeat Varuṇa or Vāyu or even the mighty Yamarāja in battle, but I do not think we can overpower Bhīṣma.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s voice was heavy with sorrow as he went on. “O Keśava, when Bhīṣma is my foe, I think it preferable to retire to the forest. It is wrong for me to sacrifice these kṣatriyas into the fire of his weapons simply for the sake of sovereignty. Look at my brothers! They have all been wounded for my sake. Not only that, but they have been deprived of both happiness and wealth because of the love they bear for me. How can I allow them to suffer further? I will therefore spend the rest of my days practicing asceticism.”
Kṛṣṇa said nothing as Yudhiṣṭhira poured out his feelings. He knew the Pāṇḍava king had no intention of abandoning the fight. The first day had not gone his way, and naturally he was frustrated--especially in the face of a warrior like Bhīṣma. It was not going to be easy to win this war. That much was already clear.
Yudhiṣṭhira continued. “It seems that Arjuna is content to be only a spectator in this battle. Bhīṣma alone remembers his kṣatriya duties and fights with determination. Why, O Kṛṣṇa, does Your friend Arjuna look on with indifference as Bhīṣma annihilates our troops? Tell me who can stop Bhīṣma? We must devise a plan to check him before he destroys the entire army. O Govinda, only by Your grace will we regain our kingdom after killing our enemies.”
Yudhiṣṭhira sat with his head down. Kṛṣṇa replied, “O best of the Bharata race, do not give way to grief. You are surrounded by great chariot warriors who are all dedicated heart and soul to your welfare. I am also engaged in doing you good. You have your brothers, as well as Drupada, Virata, Dṛṣṭadyumna, Sātyaki, Śikhaṇḍī, and many others. All of them are illustrious fighters who will not waver in battle. Śikhaṇḍī will surely slay Bhīṣma in due course. Do not despair.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was heartened by Kṛṣṇa’s assurance. Certainly He could never utter an untruth, and it was obvious that He wanted the battle to continue. Nor could it be checked regardless. It must go on.
Yudhiṣṭhira was concerned that his outpouring of sorrow may have discouraged his troops. Looking at Dṛṣṭadyumna, he said, “O hero, you have been appointed leader of my troops. Even as Kārttikeya leads the celestials, lead our army to victory. Use your prowess to kill the Kurus. I will follow behind you, along with my brothers and all the other kṣatriyas.”
Dṛṣṭadyumna replied, “O son of Pṛthā, it is ordained that I will kill Droṇa. I will now fight with any Kuru who stands before me. Let all those proud kings try their best; I am not afraid of any of them.”
Everyone present cheered. Yudhiṣṭhira then discussed the arrangements for the next day’s battle. His army would arrange itself in the Krauncha-vyuha, the formation shaped like a crow, which Bṛhaspati had devised. After arranging the warriors’ positions, the Pāṇḍava army rested for the night, with the moon casting its glow over their thousands of tents.
* * *
As the sun rose on the second day of battle, the Pāṇḍava forces arranged themselves in the Krauncha formation. Seeing this formidable array, with its atirathas and maharathas stationed at key points, Duryodhana asked Bhīṣma to form a counter-array of his own troops. Bhīṣma formed his forces into another mighty vyuha. As countless conches and trumpets were sounded, the two armies attacked. Bhīṣma headed the Kaurava attack personally. He immediately assailed the foremost Pāṇḍava fighters, led by Dṛṣṭadyumna, Abhimanyu, Bhīma and Arjuna.
Under Bhīṣma’s attack, the Pāṇḍava vyuha wavered. Charioteers and horsemen fell in quick succession. Bhīṣma’s gold-winged arrows whistled through the air with deadly accuracy. The Pāṇḍava troops were terrified as the old Kuru hero continuously showered them with his shafts.
Seeing the carnage, Arjuna was infuriated. “Go, O Janārdana, to the place where the grandfather stands. It seems he will annihilate our entire army for Duryodhana’s sake. Therefore, I will kill him.”
“Be on your guard,” Kṛṣṇa cautioned. “I will now take you to Bhīṣma.”
As Kṛṣṇa crossed the field, Arjuna sent arrows in all directions, killing the Kaurava forces in large numbers. The twang of his bow, the slap of the string on his leather fences, and the whistling of arrows leaving his bow made one continuous sound. An endless line of shafts emanated from his chariot in many directions as he whirled about.
Bhīṣma saw him approach. The great chariot with its white horses, huge ape banner, and numerous other celestial flags was easy to recognize. Without delay, Bhīṣma sent eighty long shafts at Arjuna. At the same time, Duryodhana sent another sixty, while Kṛpa fired fifty, and Droṇa twenty-five. Many other powerful warriors supporting Bhīṣma also trained their arrows on Arjuna.
Although struck on all sides, Arjuna was unmoved. He sent his own arrows at his assailants, piercing each of them. Sātyaki, Virata, Dṛṣṭadyumna and Draupadī’s sons came to support him as he targeted Bhīṣma. Each engaged with one or more Kuru heroes, leaving Bhīṣma unprotected.
Unperturbed, Bhīṣma quickly sent another eighty arrows which wounded Arjuna and sent him reeling in his chariot. The Kauravas shouted with joy. This infuriated Arjuna. He quickly regained his stance and had Kṛṣṇa drive his chariot toward the Kaurava heroes, attacking all of them with arrows fitted with heads shaped like calves’ teeth. Suffering Arjuna’s attack, the Kauravas resembled an ocean lashed by a tempest. Their armor was torn off and their bows repeatedly shattered. Arjuna routed them by the thousands and they fled in terror.
Duryodhana quickly rode up to Bhīṣma, who had not followed through on his attack on Arjuna. He called out, “O sire, see how this mighty Pāṇḍava is cutting down our troops like a farmer cutting wheat. How can you allow this? Only for your sake has Karṇa laid aside his weapons. As a result, it seems Arjuna will destroy us all. Act quickly to protect us, O son of Gaṅgā.”
Bhīṣma looked at the agitated prince. “Fie upon the kṣatriya’s duty!” he replied, turning his chariot toward Arjuna. He did not want to face the Pāṇḍavas in battle, but he knew it could not be avoided. As he went toward Arjuna, the Kauravas cheered and blew their conches. Duryodhana, Aśvatthāmā and Dushashana went with him on his two sides and at his rear.
The two atirathas, Bhīṣma and Arjuna, exchanged arrow for arrow. Each fighter released first ten, then a hundred, then a thousand shafts. Arjuna sent so many arrows at Bhīṣma that he seemed to be covered by a net, but the Kuru hero soon dispelled the arrows with his own and quickly counterattacked Arjuna. As they fought both were pleased by the other’s prowess. Neither could gain the advantage.
Kṛṣṇa was struck on the breast by three arrows and blood flowed from His wounds. As He dexterously drove the horses, He appeared like a blossoming kinsuka tree with bright red flowers. Standing on the chariot, He made it advance and retreat with beautiful circling motions. So swift was its movement that Bhīṣma found it difficult to aim at Arjuna. He too wheeled rapidly about the field, confusing Arjuna’s aim.
The earth trembled under the chariot wheels and appeared ready to split open. Those who witnessed the fight were wonderstruck. They could not mark any difference between the two combatants, nor see any flaw in their fighting techniques. Most of the time both remained invisible beneath a network of arrows. In the sky the celestials said, “These two cannot be defeated by any foe, earthly or divine. Surely this battle will be without end.”
While Arjuna and Bhīṣma fought, the two armies continued cutting each other down. Droṇa and Dṛṣṭadyumna contended like two enraged lions. As guru and disciple battled, the contest was no less spectacular than that between Arjuna and Bhīṣma. Both pierced the other’s armor, and both stood as immovable as the Himālayan mountains. Dṛṣṭadyumna, conscious of his destiny to kill Droṇa, constantly sought an opportunity to slay his opponent, but Droṇa repeatedly and fearlessly confounded his attacks. The martial preceptor displayed his unmatched ability as he fought Drupada’s son.
At one point, seeing his chance, Dṛṣṭadyumna hurled a long dart adorned with gold and vaidurya gems. It flew like a streak of lightning toward Droṇa. The moment it was released, however, Droṇa shot three razor-headed arrows that cut it to pieces in mid-air. It fell to the earth like a shower of meteors.
Infuriated, Dṛṣṭadyumna rained down arrows on Droṇa, but the Kuru warrior checked them all and at once cut apart Dṛṣṭadyumna’s bow with a crescent-headed shaft. He then killed his four horses and smashed his chariot.
Clutching a massive mace, Dṛṣṭadyumna leapt from the smashed chariot. Droṇa immediately struck the mace with a volley of arrows and shattered it into small pieces. Dṛṣṭadyumna took out his long sword and, raising his shield adorned with a hundred gold moons, ran at Droṇa. Seeing him charging like a hungry lion running at an elephant, Droṇa checked him with a cluster of barbed shafts. Dṛṣṭadyumna could not take another step but was forced to ward off the arrows with his sword and shield. Bhīma saw him struggling, and he pulled him up onto his own chariot, riding swiftly away from Droṇa.
After Dṛṣṭadyumna had mounted a fresh chariot and turned again to face his opponent, Bhīma encountered the king of Kalinga, Ketumat, and his vast army. Ketumat was supported by another monarch named Srutayush, who was followed by thousands of Niṣadha fighters. The two armies surrounded Bhīma. Finding himself hemmed in on all sides by elephants, chariots and horsemen, Bhīma laughed and began unleashing his arrows in all directions. The arrows, fired by Bhīma’s mighty arms from his huge bow, passed clean through the bodies of men and horses.
But the Kalinga and Niṣadha forces were fearless. Other Pāṇḍava troops moved in to assist Bhīma. The Matsyas, Cediś and Karushas together attacked the armies surrounding him. A terrible fight then took place. The clash of weapons and the screams of men and animals was deafening. Hacking and chopping, the soldiers made the field resemble a ghastly crematorium strewn with flesh and blood. They could hardly distinguish between friend and foe, and warriors slew others from their own side. Gradually, the Niṣadha troops, fighting with demonic fury, forced back the Cediś and Matsyas. Bhīma was left alone on his chariot, still surrounded by thousands of fighters.
Undaunted, the Pāṇḍava stood his ground. He covered the Kalingas with showers of arrows and sent up a great cry. Ketumat and his son Sakradeva rushed upon Bhīma, letting loose numerous shafts. Roaring, Bhīma shook his bow and warded them off with ease. Sakradeva fired a volley of shafts that killed Bhīma’s horses. Remaining on his chariot, Bhīma fended off Sakradeva’s attack. He quickly took up an iron mace and hurled it at the prince. That mace sped through the air as straight as an arrow. It caught Sakradeva on the chest, killing him instantly and throwing him out of his chariot onto the earth some distance away.
Seeing his son killed, Ketumat rushed forward backed by his troops. Bhīma took up a long sword forged from the finest blue steel. Holding the sword as well as a massive shield made of bullhide decorated with golden stars and crescents, he leapt from his chariot. Hoping to kill Ketumat, he ran at him with his sword held high.
Ketumat at once released a poisoned dart that sped toward Bhīma. The Pāṇḍava whirled his sword and cut it down as it flew. He shouted in the exultation of battle, and his shout filled his enemies with fear. Ketumat became completely enraged and hurled fourteen more darts at Bhīma, each with heads of sharpened stone. Bhīma cut all of them into fragments with his sword. As he performed this wonderful feat, Ketumat’s brother Bhanumat, who was mounted upon a great elephant, rushed upon him with a lion-like roar. Unable to tolerate that cry, Bhīma shouted even louder. Both yells terrified the troops, and their animals froze in fear where they stood.
Bhīma ran toward Bhanumat and leapt onto his elephant. With a powerful sword stroke he cut Bhanumat into two halves, which fell on either side of his elephant. Bhīma then swept his sword down and severed the elephant’s trunk. As the beast fell like a mountain hit by a thunderbolt, Bhīma jumped clear. He stood on the ground roaring furiously. The Kauravas looked in horror upon Vāyu’s enraged son, no longer considering him human.
Bhīma began to whirl around like a firebrand, cleaving a path through the enemy with his bright, blood-soaked sword. Heads and limbs flew about as he slaughtered innumerable warriors and their animals. He moved around the field with the speed of a hawk. Anyone who came before him was instantly slain. He seemed to be Yamarāja himself at the time of universal dissolution. The Kaurava troops were terrified. They ran about in all directions, screaming in fear.
Bhīma exhibited various motions. He wheeled and whirled. Making side thrusts, leaping high, jumping forward and then back, he moved about like a frenzied dancer. All the while his sword flashed, seeming to cover all sides at once. As he butchered them, the enemy soldiers shrieked. Hundreds of elephants fell with fearful cries. Bhīma hacked indiscriminately into the forces of the Kalingas and Niṣadhas. The ground around him was strewn with broken armor and weapons. Lances, bows, mallets, maces, darts and axes--all cut asunder--lay everywhere. Beautiful golden housings from the backs of elephants adorned the field, along with shining bells and other colorful decorations. The heads and arms of warriors lay about in large numbers, their jeweled ornaments glinting from the ground.
Bhīma could not be checked. The earth around him became a thick mire of flesh and blood. Wanting to save his soldiers, Srutayush came before him on his chariot and shouted out a challenge. He immediately shot a hundred fierce arrows at the rampaging Pāṇḍava. Pierced by the arrows like an elephant pierced by a hook, Bhīma’s anger knew no bounds. His charioteer, Vishoka, came to him with a fresh chariot and Bhīma leapt aboard. Crying, “Wait! Wait!” he rushed at Srutayush, who continuously fired sharp arrows at him. Bhīma took up his bow and sent nine iron arrows at the Kalinga king. Three shafts hit Srutayush with the force of a thunderbolt and threw him lifeless to the ground.
Turning at once to Ketumat, Bhīma similarly slew him with a number of long shafts that left his bow with the sound of thunderclaps. The remaining Kalingas surrounded Bhīma in the hundreds of thousands. All of them rained their weapons on him at once. Bhīma repelled their weapons and then took up his mace. He jumped down from the chariot and resumed fighting on foot. Wielding his huge mace he sent the Kalingas to the region of Death. So rapid were his movements that no one could touch him. He crushed his enemies and they broke and ran.
Seeing his foes fleeing, Bhīma took out his conch and blew repeated blasts on it. The incredible sound reverberated around the field and struck the Kauravas with panic. They trembled and seemed to lose consciousness. As Bhīma continued to move among the remaining Kalingas, they appeared to be in a trance. The whole army shook like a lake agitated by an alligator. Bhīma wiped out their entire army. With great difficulty their commander rallied the few that were left and brought them back to the fight.
Bhīma remounted his chariot and stood ready as more troops came to assist the Kalingas. Dṛṣṭadyumna then came up to Bhīma, followed by large numbers of Pāṇḍava warriors. As the sun approached the western horizon, the fight raged on. When twilight fell, the two armies disengaged and withdrew from the field. As jackals and vultures again gathered around the grisly scenes of carnage, the soldiers made their way back to their encampments.
2.7: Bhīṣma Wreaks Havoc
On the third day, the Kurus formed their troops into the Garuḍa vyuha, shaped like the divine eagle with outspread wings. On the neck of the eagle stood Bhīṣma, and its two eyes were Droṇa and Kṛtavarmā. At its head stood Aśvatthāmā and Kṛpa, backed by the Matsya, Kekaya and Vatadhana armies. Other armies made up its two wings and back. Duryodhana, with all his followers, were its center and tail.
In opposition to the Kurus, the Pāṇḍavas countered with a formation in the shape of a crescent, its points toward the enemy. Bhīma stood at the right point, surrounded by many kings. Dṛṣṭadyumna and the immense Pañchāla army formed its middle. Behind was Yudhiṣṭhira, protected by Sātyaki and numerous other chariot fighters. Arjuna stood at the left point with Ghaṭotkaca and his awful Rākṣasa troops.
Once again the two armies closed to the sound of countless drums and conchshells. They resembled two clouds merging in the heavens. As soon as they met, the great slaughter began again.
Urged on by Kṛṣṇa, Arjuna displayed his full prowess. He seemed like the Destroyer himself at the end of creation. Many heroes, hoping to win glory and with death as their goal, came before Arjuna as he let loose his shafts. They fell by the thousands. Arjuna carved a path through the Kauravas.
Fearing that Arjuna might destroy his entire force in one day, Duryodhana commanded his generals to surround the Pāṇḍava. Coming upon him from all sides, they hurled their bright lances, darts, clubs, maces, pikes, battleaxes, mallets and arrows. Smiling in the midst of the downpour of weapons, Arjuna quickly checked them with his arrows. At the same time, he maintained his attack on his assailants. In the sky the celestials were astonished by his extraordinary lightness of hand and they praised him loudly.
As Arjuna engaged with the Kuru chiefs, other Pāṇḍava heroes also attacked the Kauravas. Yudhiṣṭhira and the twins fought furiously, driving back the Kuru forces with their incessant showers of arrows. Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca, father and son, performed terrible feats of valor.
Clenching his teeth in fury, Duryodhana challenged Bhīma. The Pāṇḍava at once fired an iron arrow at him. Struck on the chest, Duryodhana collapsed on the floor of his chariot. His charioteer quickly carried him away and all the troops supporting him broke and fled.
As Bhīma, Ghaṭotkaca, Yudhiṣṭhira, and the twins fought together, Abhimanyu joined them. At the same time, Arjuna continued his attack on the kings surrounding him. Thus the Pāṇḍava warriors assailed the Kauravas like a tempest tearing into a forest. Although both Bhīṣma and Droṇa tried to rally their fleeing forces, they were unsuccessful.
Duryodhana returned to his senses and again stood in his chariot. Seeing the commotion, he called out to his panic-stricken soldiers, “Where will you go, foolish men, leaving behind your fame? Do not act like eunuchs. The fight has hardly begun. While I am still standing, and while Bhīṣma and Droṇa are our leaders, how will we not gain victory? Turn back and fight!”
The warriors stopped, shamed. Desiring to exhibit their prowess, they turned back toward the Pāṇḍavas. Rallied, the huge Kaurava army resembled the sea surging at the full moon’s tide. As they again rushed toward the foe, Duryodhana rode over to Bhīṣma. “O Grandfather, O descendent of Bharata, please hear my words.”
Bhīṣma lowered his bow and looked across at the agitated prince. It was obvious that Duryodhana was angry and trying to control the harshness in his voice. “O scion of the Kuru race, I do not consider the Pāṇḍavas to be a match for you. When you are fighting, backed by Droṇa, Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, and so many other maharathas, how is it possible that my troops are flying from the battle? Surely you are favoring the Pāṇḍavas. Therefore, you forgive them for this slaughter of our men. O King, you should have told me before the battle began that you would not fight the Pāṇḍavas. I could then have consulted with Karṇa and decided what needed to be done. O best of men, if I do not deserve to have you abandon me, then fight to the utmost of your power.”
Bhīṣma laughed angrily in return. “O King, have I not told you on so many occasions that the Pāṇḍavas are invincible? I will nevertheless do whatever I am capable of doing. See now my power in battle. In the sight of all I will chastise the Pāṇḍavas with their troops and kinsmen.”
Duryodhana clenched his fist and smiled. He ordered drums and conches to be sounded. As the sun began its descent toward the west, Bhīṣma advanced toward the Pāṇḍavas, flanked by the best of the Kauravas.
Seeing the Kauravas returning back to the battle, roaring and beating their drums, the Pāṇḍavas cheered and blew their conches in reply. The fight continued. Warriors on both sides again fell like ripe ears of corn in a field. The brave shouts of thousands of fighters merged together and sounded like a roaring sea. Cries of “Stand your ground!” “Strike!” “Turn back!” “On your guard!” and “Here I am!” were heard everywhere, and the stench of blood filled the air.
The warriors could hardly traverse the battlefield, it was so thick with corpses. Strewn with colored armor, turbans and ornaments, the field appeared as beautiful as the autumn sky at night. Though mortally wounded, warriors were seen to rush upon their enemies with pride. Others who lay dying called out to their loved ones, “O Father, O Brother, O Uncle, do not abandon me.” In some places, headless trunks ran about wildly, blood spurting from their severed necks.
In accord with his promise to Duryodhana, Bhīṣma wrought a terrible havoc on the battlefield. His bow was constantly drawn to a circle. Virulent arrows sped in all directions and cut down warriors by the thousands. The blazing shafts never missed their aim. The old Kuru chief trained his weapons on all the principal Pāṇḍava heroes, calling them by name as he fired. His chariot made wondrous motions as it careened about. It seemed as if he was everywhere at once, and he left a trail of destruction in his wake. Everyone who saw him considered that he had somehow multiplied himself a thousandfold by the power of illusion. None could look at him. All that they could see was an endless stream of arrows leaving his bow.
The Pāṇḍavas and their allies gave way to lamentation. Any kṣatriya brave enough to encounter Bhīṣma was immediately dispatched to Death’s abode. Whoever came near him was seen at that moment to fall to the ground. With a single long arrow he pierced three or four men seated on the back of an elephant. With another shaft he slew the elephant itself. Horsemen and infantry were swept away like leaves blown by a gale.
The Pāṇḍava army trembled and gave way, fleeing in all directions. They were so completely routed that no two persons were seen together. With cries of “Oh” and “Alas,” they scattered in fear. Many men with dishevelled hair and clothes were seen running away in terror, throwing aside their weapons and armor. Even the Pāṇḍava chiefs were confounded by Bhīṣma’s prowess.
Seeing their confusion, Kṛṣṇa halted Arjuna’s chariot and said, “O foremost of men, strike Bhīṣma alone. He alone is dispersing your army. Take action or everything will be lost. O hero, formerly in the assembly of kings you said, ‘I will kill all the Kaurava warriors, headed by Bhīṣma and Droṇa.’ O Bhibatsu, O son of Kuntī, chastiser of foes, make good your words. Stand before Bhīṣma. He appears today like the Destroyer himself with his mouth opened wide to consume all beings.”
Arjuna looked around at the annihilation. Even though it was his own army being destroyed, he was nevertheless filled with an admiration and joy. Bhīṣma’s power in battle was incomparable.
But he had a duty to perform. Bhīṣma had sided with Duryodhana. Thinking of the Kaurava prince again incited Arjuna’s anger. “Plunge through this sea of hostile troops, O Keśava, and take my chariot to Bhīṣma. Today I will throw down that invincible warrior.”
Kṛṣṇa at once urged on the silver-white horses, and the brilliant chariot sped unobstructed toward Bhīṣma. Seeing Arjuna coming to face Bhīṣma, the rest of the Pāṇḍava army was heartened and rallied back to the fight.
Bhīṣma saw Arjuna approach and he roared like a lion. He immediately covered him with countless shafts. In a moment Arjuna’s chariot with its standard and charioteer became invisible beneath a curtain of arrows. Kṛṣṇa fearlessly and patiently maneuvered the chariot out from under the arrows. As he emerged, Arjuna fired four straight-flying shafts from the Gāṇḍīva and cut apart Bhīṣma’s bow. Bhīṣma, angry, took up another bow and strung it in an instant. Without delay, Arjuna cut the new bow to pieces with razor-headed arrows. Bhīṣma praised him, calling out, “O Pārtha, O son of Pāṇḍu, well done, well done! I am pleased with you for this wonderful feat. Now fight your hardest with me.”
Bhīṣma whirled around in his chariot and appeared with yet another bow. He shot large numbers of shafts at Arjuna, but Kṛṣṇa, by His expert driving, baffled them all. The chariot went around in swift circles with Arjuna moving about to keep his arrows aimed at Bhīṣma. Both Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa were wounded, and they both resembled angry bulls scratched by one another’s horns. Laughing loudly, Bhīṣma again covered his foe with arrows on all sides. Even Kṛṣṇa was astonished by his skill and power.
Seeing Arjuna’s chariot swamped, Dṛṣṭadyumna rushed to his aid, accompanied by a large number of troops. He released volleys of powerful shafts, which distracted him from his attack on Arjuna. At the same time, the twins hurled their weapons at him. Arjuna, freed from Bhīṣma’s assault, sent countless arrows back at him and at the kings supporting him. Other Kuru fighters rode up to assist Bhīṣma and gradually the fight between all the warriors became a general conflagration.
As the two armies clashed, the sun pursued its course to the western hills. Once again the conches blew and the soldiers lowered their weapons. Slowly they withdrew from the field. Both sides had suffered heavy losses, but the Pāṇḍavas had been particularly afflicted by Bhīṣma’s prowess. As Rākṣasas and carnivorous beasts and birds descended on the battlefield, the troops rested for the third night, exhausted from the day’s fighting.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was cheered by the report of the third day of battle. It seemed that even Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa together could not check Bhīṣma when he fought with fury. And there was also the mighty Droṇa, who was perhaps even more powerful than Bhīṣma. What to speak of Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, and the other maharathas. Even if the Pāṇḍavas somehow managed to overpower Bhīṣma, there was still Karṇa waiting on the sidelines to come into the battle. And he would not have been fighting, so his strength would be fresh. Things looked promising for the Kauravas. The old king looked forward with hope to the fourth day.
* * *
On the fourth morning, Arjuna arranged the Pāṇḍava forces in a vyuha shaped like an alligator. From a distance it looked like a mass of clouds. On the other side the Kauravas arranged a counter-array and moved toward their foe. As the two armies came together, the earth shook.
The chief chariot fighters of the two sides clashed, while the infantry fought hand-to-hand on the ground. Once again a great din arose. The Pāṇḍavas had been cheered by Kṛṣṇa after their battering at Bhīṣma’s hands, and they fought with renewed vigor. Arjuna fought with Bhīṣma and kept him at bay, while Dṛṣṭadyumna and other great fighters slaughtered many enemy kings and their forces.
Thinking of his vow to slay Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons, Bhīma began to search them out. As he ranged across the earth, causing destruction, he came across Duryodhana’s chariot. Drawing up his own chariot at a distance, he smiled as he saw Duryodhana’s many brothers surround their king. Here was his chance to finish them all.
Duryodhana saw Bhīma facing him. The two enemies glared at one another for a moment. Then Bhīma took up his mace, roared and raced toward Duryodhana.
With a wave of his gloved hand, Duryodhana ordered a large division of elephants to charge the advancing Bhīma. Licking his lips and whirling his iron mace, Shaikya, Bhīma leapt from his chariot. He ran straight at the company of elephants with his mace held high. Careering about, he smashed the elephants and brought them down one after another. The elephant warriors could not approach this circling firebrand. Even his terrible shouts made the huge beasts stop in their tracks and tremble.
Behind Bhīma came Abhimanyu and Draupadī’s sons, as well as Dṛṣṭadyumna and the twins. They all fired razor-headed arrows, which beheaded the fighters on the elephants. The riders appeared like trees on a mountain with their tops cut off.
The leader of the elephant division, Maghadaraja, goaded his mount toward Abhimanyu. The immense beast resembled Airāvata, Indra’s elephant carrier. Unperturbed, Abhimanyu shot a long iron arrow which hit the elephant between the eyes, penetrating up to its feathers. As the beast fell like a mountain toppling, Abhimanyu fired another arrow which took off the head of its royal rider.
Bhīma continued annihilating the elephants with mace blows. He felled them with a single stroke and they dropped down with their heads broken open. Others had their tusks, backs and legs broken. They fell vomiting blood and screaming. Bhīma moved among them like Śiva wielding his Pinaka weapon. The Pāṇḍava looked exactly like that mighty god dancing his wild dance of destruction at the end of the cosmic age. His mace, stained with blood and fat, whizzed through the air with a roar like the ocean.
Like clouds driven in a tempest, the elephant forces broke and fled. Surrounded by the carcasses of the hundreds that were slain, Bhīma looked like Rudra standing in the middle of a cremation ground. He roared repeatedly, his red eyes looking about for more enemies.
Duryodhana foamed at the mouth. He screamed out to his troops, “Kill Bhīma!”
All the forces supporting Duryodhana turned and rushed toward Bhīma, who smiled grimly as they charged. The advancing army came like a tidal wave toward him, but Bhīma stood firm to meet them. The other Pāṇḍava warriors flanking Bhīma blew their conches and roared along with him. All of them joyfully met the charging Kauravas with volleys of weapons. They were like the seashore resisting the surging sea. Bhīma alone checked the leading Kauravas by ranging about with his mace. He again created confusion among his foes. They looked on him as if he were the immovable Mount Meru. None of their weapons affected him at all. Most were knocked to the ground by his mace. Those that struck him he shrugged off.
Headed by Bhīma, the Pāṇḍava forces crushed the Kaurava army like an elephant crushing a cluster of reeds. With one blow from his mace Bhīma would destroy a chariot along with its charioteer and the warrior fighting on its terrace. As he roved about like a tornado, the Kaurava soldiers turned their eyes away from him in utter horror.
Surrounded by many of his brothers, Duryodhana roared out a challenge. With a grim smile the Pāṇḍava glared at him. Seeing the prince and his brothers mounted on chariots, Bhīma quickly signalled to his charioteer to bring over his own chariot. Jumping aboard he rushed at his foes. As Bhīma approached them, Duryodhana and his brother Nandaka fired arrows at him, wounding both Bhīma and Vishoka, his charioteer. They cut Bhīma’s bow apart and it fell in pieces to the floor of his chariot.
Unable to tolerate their attack, Bhīma took up another bow, as tall as a man. Releasing an arrow fitted with a horseshoe head, he cut apart Duryodhana’s buffalo-horn bow. Excited to the highest pitch of his anger, Duryodhana took hold of another bow from the many lying in his chariot. He instantly fired at Bhīma a long hammer-headed arrow that resembled a bludgeon. It blazed through the air and struck Bhīma full on the chest. Rendered senseless by the blow, Bhīma fell to his knees for some moments.
The Pāṇḍava forces supporting Bhīma poured upon Duryodhana a relentless shower of arrows. As the Kaurava warded off the attack, Bhīma regained his senses and sent up a shout. He quickly pierced Duryodhana with eight swift shafts. As Duryodhana’s brothers converged on him, he licked the corners of his mouth like a hungry wolf. Fourteen of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons surrounded him at once and hurled countless arrows and other weapons at his chariot.
Laughing amid their furious assault, Bhīma swiftly fixed razor-headed shafts onto his bow. Sending the arrows to all sides with deadly accuracy, he cut off his opponents’ heads one after another. Duryodhana looked on helplessly as his brothers were slain like a herd of deer killed by a lion. Their beautiful helmeted heads, adorned with golden earrings, rolled in the mud. In a short time, all fourteen were killed and the rest of the brothers had turned and fled.
Bhīṣma came up to Duryodhana to support him and he shouted commands to the army. “Bhīma is wantonly slaying the king’s sons, although they are accomplished in arms and courageous. Quickly fight with the son of Pāṇḍu before he annihilates all our princes.”
The battle soon became general as the warriors of both sides came together, matching their prowess and their weapons. As evening approached another great carnage was wrought among the Kauravas by Ghaṭotkaca and his Rākṣasa followers, whose strength increased with the onset of night.
Seeing his troops receiving the worst of the fight, Bhīṣma blew his conch and ordered the army to withdraw. As the afflicted Kaurava forces left the battlefield, the victorious Pāṇḍavas cheered. Ashamed and dispirited, the Kauravas went back to their encampment. On their side, the Pāṇḍavas, cheerful despite their wounds, returned to their camp with Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca at their head. They praised and worshipped their two heroes, who had caused such destruction among the Kauravas.
2.8: The Rākṣasas Show Their Power
Dhṛtarāṣṭra wept when he heard of his sons’ deaths. “O Sañjaya, I am afraid. I am amazed to hear of Bhīma’s god-like prowess. Hearing, too, of my sons’ humiliation, I am burning with anxiety. What will the outcome of this war be? I remember only Vidura’s prophecies. By the influence of destiny, it seems his words will prove true. The Pāṇḍava heroes are emerging successful, even though our forces, headed by Bhīṣma and Droṇa, appeared so invincible. What austerities have they performed? What knowledge did they cultivate? What boons have been bestowed upon them? Alas, my sons are doomed.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra began to wail. Sañjaya consoled him, but the king continued to weep for some time. Struggling to regain his composure, he clutched the arms of his golden throne and continued to speak.
“I am being chastised by destiny. Tell me, Sañjaya, why my sons are being killed while the Pāṇḍavas survive? I cannot see any end to this ocean of distress into which I am being plunged. I am like a man who desires to swim across the sea. No doubt Bhīma will slay all my sons. O Sañjaya, tell me what Duryodhana and his generals are doing as a result of the Pāṇḍavas’ victory.”
Sañjaya sat at the king’s feet with his eyes closed. He could see everything occurring on the battlefield in both camps. Visualizing the scene in Duryodhana’s tent, he said, “Listen carefully, O King, and I shall describe everything. What is the use of hoping to be victorious? You have already been told so many times about the Pāṇḍavas’ position. Those heroic men live only for Kṛṣṇa’s pleasure, and the universe itself depends on His will. Your sons are wicked and have perpetrated numerous ills upon their cousins. Now they are reaping the bitter fruits.”
Sañjaya then continued his description of the battle.
* * *
Duryodhana entered his tent with a heavy heart. Tens of thousands of his troops lay dead on the battlefield, and Bhīma had killed fourteen of his brothers. Tears of grief and frustration ran down his face as he took his seat among his counselors. Turning to Bhīṣma, he spoke in a voice laden with sorrow.
“O Grandsire, on my side I have you, Droṇa, Śalya, Kṛpa, Kṛtavarmā, Aśvatthāmā, and many other warriors incapable of being defeated. All of you are ready to lay down your lives for my sake. Our numbers are far superior to those of the Pāṇḍavas. In such circumstances, I cannot understand how we can be suffering at their hands. How is it, O hero, that we are being overcome? What is the secret of their success?”
Bhīṣma, laying his silver helmet by his side, turned and looked at Duryodhana. “O King, I will explain once again why we cannot defeat the Pāṇḍavas. For your own good you have repeatedly been counseled to seek peace with them. You have chosen to ignore these instructions. Therefore, you will have to suffer, as all your counselors predicted. I have cried myself hoarse trying to make you see sense. What more do you want me to say? However, because I desire your welfare and the welfare of your brothers, I will try one more time.”
Bhīṣma felt his compassion stir for the grieving Duryodhana, who sat weeping as he remembered his brothers, relatives and friends who had died for him. Although the prince had always scorned his well-wishers’ advice, Bhīṣma hoped that his misery would make him more receptive. The Kuru commander waited until he had the attention of all the kings present, then he spoke in a loud voice.
“O King, O lord of the earth, there was not, is not, and will never be any person who can slay the Pāṇḍavas while Kṛṣṇa protects them. I will describe to you an ancient history which I heard while I resided in heaven with my mother. Once, Brahmā was sitting in his assembly with the gods. At that time, the earth goddess Bhumi came to him crying. She said she was afflicted by the sinful acts of the demons and Dānavas, all of whom had taken birth on earth. Thus she sought the shelter of the unborn creator. ‘O my lord,’ she prayed, ‘all the mighty and wicked Daityas and Dānavas whom the gods slew in battle have now appeared on earth as kings and warriors. I can no longer bear the burden of such cruel men, who rape and plunder my resources for their own selfish pleasure.’
“Feeling compassion for Bhumi, Brahmā, accompanied by the gods, went at once to the limitless milk ocean, where the inconceivable Viṣṇu lies. After offering prayers to the Supreme Personality, he told Him of the earth’s plight. Brahmā then heard Viṣṇu speak to him from within his heart, where the Lord ever resides as the Supersoul of all beings. The Lord told him that He would soon appear on earth to destroy the demons. His personal servants would incarnate along with Him. All the gods should expand themselves by their mystic power and take birth on earth. Assisted by all of them, the Lord would execute His divine plan for the salvation of the earth.”
Bhīṣma paused and looked at Duryodhana. He knew the Kaurava cared little for histories. Although he was prepared to accept that Viṣṇu was a powerful being who acted for the gods’ good, Duryodhana could not accept Viṣṇu’s identity as the Supreme Lord. Duryodhana was not a religious man in that sense. Despite performing his religious duty as a kṣatriya, he had no concept of serving and pleasing a God who controlled everything. He believed in his own power. Now, in a moment of distress, where it was obvious that his own power was limited, Bhīṣma hoped to find his mind more open. He went on addressing the grieving prince.
“That eternal and indescribable Lord Viṣṇu has now appeared as Kṛṣṇa. Indeed, it is Kṛṣṇa who is the source of Viṣṇu. There is no difference between the two personalities. O Duryodhana, you have already heard that Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna are the two ancient ṛṣis, Nārāyaṇa and Nara. Know too that the many kings and kṣatriyas fighting with them are expansions of the gods. The Pāṇḍavas themselves are all former Indras from different ages. Through them Kṛṣṇa will execute His divine plan to kill the demons, who have amassed as your army, O King. Kṛṣṇa’s will is infallible. He is the supreme mystery, the supreme shelter, and the supreme glory. Do not disregard Him, thinking Him an ordinary man. You should worship that undeteriorating being of endless energies. The wise say that one who thinks Kṛṣṇa to be an ordinary man is a fool and a sinner.”
Bhīṣma stopped and Duryodhana sat in thought. It was hard to accept that Kṛṣṇa was the all-powerful Supreme Being. Certainly He was an extraordinarily powerful person, but God? Could any being lay claim to possessing such power? Some great force or power lay beyond everything, that was sure, but how could it be a person? And how could that person be Kṛṣṇa, who had sided with his foes? After all, was he, Duryodhana, the king of the Kurus, really such an irreligious person? Everyone condemned him as such, but he had always done his duty and tried to rule the people with justice. If there was a God, why should He be antagonistic toward him? But if Kṛṣṇa was God, it would certainly explain why the Pāṇḍavas proved so difficult to overpower. Why, though, was He favoring Pāṇḍu’s sons?
Duryodhana took a deep breath. “Tell me more about Kṛṣṇa,” he asked, his voice unusually subdued. “I always hear Him spoken of as the highest being. O Grandsire, I desire to know all about His position and His glory.”
Bhīṣma then described Kṛṣṇa’s opulence as he had heard of it from Nārada, Vyāsadeva, Mārkaṇḍeya and Paraśurāma. “All these wise sages accept Kṛṣṇa’s divinity. They consider Him the master and sustainer of all beings. He is everyone’s well-wisher and friend, but you do not see Him as such, O King. For this reason I consider you to be a Rākṣasa of wicked heart and mind. You are immersed in ignorance, absorbed only in thoughts of selfish happiness. Thus you cannot know Kṛṣṇa. He can only be known by those free from lust, greed and anger, and those who realize themselves to be His eternal servants. O King, try to see things in this way, for that alone will lead to everlasting happiness. Make peace and live happily with your cousins. You cannot win this war. Your enmity toward Kṛṣṇa and the Pāṇḍavas will result only in suffering and defeat.”
Hearing Bhīṣma speak at length about Kṛṣṇa, many of the kings surrounding Duryodhana began to regard the Yādava as the Supreme Person. Even Duryodhana began to wonder. Perhaps Kṛṣṇa was something more than just a man; maybe He was even higher than a celestial.
But it was too late to turn back from the fight now. Whoever Kṛṣṇa was, the Pāṇḍavas were Duryodhana’s enemies. He would give them nothing. If they wanted the kingdom, they would have to fight for it. Even if their army was comprised of expansions of the gods, his forces would be empowered by the Dānavas, whose power was equal to that of the gods.
Duryodhana dismissed the assembly and went to bed. Before laying down to sleep he bowed down to Kṛṣṇa. If the Yadu hero was actually the Supreme, then it would do no harm to offer Him some respect. Perhaps, the prince thought, his own fortunes might change. Lying on his milk-white silk sheets, Duryodhana then slept fitfully.
* * *
As the sun rose on the fifth day, the two armies again rushed at one another. The warriors slain the previous day had been allowed to lay on a hero’s bed for one night, then had been cremated at dawn, leaving the field clear for the day’s action.
Worked up with the fury of battle, the opposing troops again slaughtered one another. The killing did not end at any time throughout the day. Arjuna showed his incomparable prowess as he moved about the field. The Gāṇḍīva bow resembled flashes of lightning as he released innumerable arrows on all sides. Other great fighters, such as Abhimanyu, Bhīma, the twins, Sātyaki, and Yudhiṣṭhira, also created havoc among the Kauravas.
On the Kauravas’ side, Bhīṣma and the other powerful warriors continued their destruction of the Pāṇḍava army. Śikhaṇḍī faced Bhīṣma on a number of occasions, intent upon his destruction, but each time Bhīṣma turned away from the fight. Dṛṣṭadyumna also constantly sought an opportunity to slay Droṇa, but the Kuru preceptor held off his attack and drove Dṛṣṭadyumna back with his own irresistible assault. Drupada’s son wondered how he would ever fulfill his destiny, but he fearlessly challenged Droṇa again and again.
Bhīma also constantly watched for any opportunities to catch Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons. He was determined to kill them as quickly as possible. As he roved across the battlefield, he appeared like the god of death. He favored fighting with his mace, although he was equally accomplished with the bow and would frequently shower volleys of arrows on the Kurus.
The fifth, sixth and seventh days passed with many men being slaughtered, but none of the principal warriors fell on either side. In an attempt to limit the destruction Arjuna was causing among his troops, Duryodhana assigned Susharma and his army, the Samshaptakas, to engage him. Those warriors challenged Arjuna at the start of each day and the Pāṇḍava duly fought with them, killing thousands.
Despite their inferior numbers, the Pāṇḍava army slowly wore down the enemy. Duryodhana repeatedly harangued Bhīṣma and Droṇa, accusing them of partiality toward the Pāṇḍavas. Both of them tried again and again to convince Duryodhana to stop the war and to make peace, but Duryodhana was resolute. The fight would continue.
On the eighth day, Bhīma encountered and killed another seventeen of Duryodhana’s brothers. Although a large contingent of them had surrounded Bhīma and hurled their weapons at him, he cut them down relentlessly with his arrows. Standing on his chariot, it was clear that he intended to kill all of Duryodhana’s brothers there and then. Only when Droṇa came forward, showering him with arrows, were they able to stop him. By shooting so many arrows that Bhīma could no longer be seen, Droṇa allowed Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons to escape. Breaking free from Droṇa’s attack, Bhīma again ranged about the battlefield like a wolf amid a flock of sheep.
As Bhīma ravaged the Kaurava troops and the other Pāṇḍava heroes slew warriors in other parts of the battlefield, Arjuna’s son Iravan came to the battle. Born from the Nāga princess Ulūpī, Iravan was a powerful celestial fighter. He headed a division of warriors who rode upon many-hued horses which had been raised on the high tracts of the Himālayas. The horses were clad in steel mail and caparisoned in gold. The Nāga fighters riding them charged at the Kauravas with fearful cries, appearing amid the battle like a flock of swans on the bosom of the ocean.
The Nāga cavalry were met on Duryodhana’s side by the large division of horseback warriors from the hilly region of Gandhara led by Śakuni’s six younger brothers. Covered in armor and screaming battle cries, they rushed at Iravan and his troops and penetrated their forces, their minds fixed on victory or the attainment of heaven. Iravan laughed loudly, calling out to his followers, “Kill all these warriors by any means.”
The Nāgas displayed dazzling skills at riding and fighting. Their horses seemed to float in the air, and their weapons fell from all sides onto their enemies. The Gandhara fighters were crushed, leaving only Śakuni’s brothers to face the Nāgas. They threw lances at Iravan and pierced his armor. The lances stuck out from his chest, back and huge legs.
Undaunted, Iravan pulled out the lances and hurled them back at his roaring foes. He came down from his horse with blood streaming from his wounds. Taking out a fearsome saber, he ran at Suvala’s sons. The powerful Nāga appeared like a moving mountain covered with red oxides. As he whirled his saber and buckler, he covered himself on all sides. Although the Gandhara princes shot hundreds of arrows at him, they could find no gap in his defense. They surrounded Iravan and hurled their long lances. Beating down their spears, Iravan leapt up with his saber and cut off their arms and legs. Their mutilated limbs fell to the earth, along with their weapons, armor and shields. Iravan then swung his saber with deadly accuracy, severing his opponents’ heads.
Only one prince, Vrishaba, escaped. He ran to Duryodhana to report that the Gandhara forces had been annihilated. Duryodhana’s wrath flared. He called for Alambusha, a massive Rākṣasa of frightful appearance. Alambusha had joined with Duryodhana because he hated Bhīma, who had slain his brother Baka. As he came before Duryodhana, the Kaurava said, “Behold the destruction caused by Arjuna’s son. The master of illusions, Iravan, can only be checked by one of equal power. O hero, you are capable of going anywhere on the earth and in the sky. You can assume forms at will. Go and slay Iravan in battle, the son of your sworn enemy’s brother.”
Replying, “So be it,” the Rākṣasa uttered his terrible war cry and rushed at Iravan. By his mystic power he created a large division of demons, mounted upon chargers. The demon warriors held lances fitted with spiked ends and brandished bludgeons stained with blood.
Seeing Alambusha racing toward him, Iravan rallied his horsemen. Then the Nāgas and Rākṣasas clashed. Soon, both divisions were slain and Iravan and Alambusha faced one another alone just as Indra met Vṛtrasura in ancient times. As the Rākṣasa approached Iravan, the Nāga swung his saber and cut apart his enemy’s sword.
Alambusha rose up into the sky and confounded Iravan’s attack. Iravan, by his own powers, followed the Rākṣasa into the heavens. In their shining armor the fighters appeared like two planets colliding. Assailing the Rākṣasa with great force, Iravan cut off his limbs and mutilated his body, but Alambusha somehow evaded death. Rather, he immediately appeared in a new, youthful body. Iravan slashed at him again and again with his saber and battle-axe, but the Rākṣasa appeared in a new body each time. Alambusha roared discordantly, the sound filling the sky. He suddenly assumed a dreadful and prodigious form and tried to capture Iravan.
As thousands of warriors looked on from below, Iravan created his own illusions. He appeared in an enormous form resembling Ananta-sesha. He was surrounded by numerous other Nāgas in the forms of terrible-looking serpents. They closed on Alambusha, baring their fangs and spitting poison. The Rākṣasa, after reflecting for a moment, assumed the form of Garuḍa. Swooping about rapidly, he devoured his antagonists.
Iravan was confounded by Alambusha’s illusory powers. As the Nāga again assumed his own form, Alambusha rushed at him, swinging his great sword. With a powerful stroke he cut off Iravan’s head, graced with earrings and a diadem, and it fell down to the earth like the moon falling from the heavens.
Duryodhana and his followers cheered loudly and fought on with renewed vigor. The Pāṇḍava forces cried out in dismay. Elsewhere on the field, Arjuna battled the Samshaptakas, unaware of his son’s death.
But Ghaṭotkaca had seen Iravan’s death. Enraged, he sent up a huge roar. The earth with her mountains and lakes quaked as the terrifying cry echoed off the distant hills. The Kauravas trembled and perspired. Their limbs froze in fear and they gazed about to see what had caused that horrific sound. Depressed by the cry, they fled in all directions like a herd of deer frightened by a lion.
Ghaṭotkaca raised his blazing trident and advanced toward the Kauravas. He was backed by hordes of Rākṣasas who had all assumed fearful forms. As they rushed into battle, they dispersed the enemy troops like the wind blowing away dust and debris.
Duryodhana saw his forces fleeing in fear at the sight of the Rākṣasas. Shouting out a battle cry he stood firm to face them. He shook his bow and took out a number of long, razor-headed shafts. Behind him stood a large division of elephant fighters. They rushed at the Rākṣasas, yelling out their war cries again and again.
Ghaṭotkaca was furious. Screaming, he and his loyal followers met Duryodhana’s forces. Appearing as fiends, goblins and hideous demons, the mighty Rākṣasas attacked the elephants. With arrows, darts, sabers, lances, mallets and battle-axes, they slew the warriors who rode them, then lifted boulders and trees and killed the elephants. Crushing and butchering the entire division, the Rākṣasas roared in triumph.
Duryodhana was beside himself with anger. Heedless of his own life he rushed at Ghaṭotkaca and his troops. The powerful Kuru sped countless arrows at his foes. He killed dozens of them, and they fell screaming to the earth. Duryodhana exhibited astonishing prowess as he ranged about the field. His shafts flew like lightning and severely afflicted the Rākṣasas.
Ghaṭotkaca then personally attacked Duryodhana. Although Ghaṭotkaca rushed forward like Death incarnate, Duryodhana did not waver. The Rākṣasa approached him and began to rebuke him.
“O evil-minded one, today I will liquidate the debt I owe my fathers whom you exiled. You robbed such virtuous men and insulted their chaste wife. O man of perverse intelligence, wretch of your race, for these and many other insults I will now punish you. Stand and fight, if you have any courage.”
Biting his lips, Ghaṭotkaca released a shower of arrows at Duryodhana. The Kaurava seemed like a mountain under a storm in the rainy season, but he bore the arrows without flinching as if he were an elephant receiving a shower of flowers. He shot twenty-five shafts at the Rākṣasa in reply. His arrows fell like serpents falling upon the Gandhamādana mountain. Pierced and bleeding, Ghaṭotkaca resolved to kill Duryodhana. Forgetful of his father’s vow, he took up a mighty lance which was capable of penetrating rock. It blazed with a brilliant effulgence as Ghaṭotkaca raised it to destroy Duryodhana.
Seeing the Kaurava in danger, the leader of an elephant division, a king named Banga, urged his elephant forward. He came between Duryodhana and the Rākṣasa just as the lance was hurled. Struck by the blazing lance, the elephant was slain and the king leapt from its back.
Duryodhana seethed. His forces were being slain on all sides. Now Bhīma’s Rākṣasa son stood before him like an immovable mountain. How could he possibly overpower him? But keeping in mind his kṣatriya duty, the Kaurava prince stood firm. He let go a number of searing shafts that flew toward Ghaṭotkaca like a cluster of comets.
The Rākṣasa moved about swiftly and expertly evaded the arrows. He roared repeatedly, petrifying his enemies.
Hearing his roars, Bhīṣma became fearful for Duryodhana’s life. He went quickly to Droṇa and said, “It seems from his cries that Ghaṭotkaca is overpowering the king. No creature can conquer Bhīma’s son. Only you can help the king. Go at once and rescue him. May good betide you.”
Droṇa immediately turned toward the sound of Ghaṭotkaca’s roars. He was followed by Aśvatthāmā, Kṛpa, Bāhlika, Somadatta, Śalya, Bhurisrava, and other Kuru warriors. Reaching Duryodhana, Droṇa saw that he was hard-pressed. He quickly shot a volley of arrows at Ghaṭotkaca, while the other Kurus attacked the Rākṣasa army with arrows, darts and lances. The crack of bowstrings striking leather fences sounded like the crackling of burning bamboos in a forest fire. The Kurus hurled their lances at the Rākṣasas and they soared through the air like thousands of virulent serpents.
Seeing the Kuru force arriving, Ghaṭotkaca laughed and stood his ground. With another terrible yell he stretched his huge bow and released a crescent-headed shaft that destroyed Droṇa’s bow. With other arrows he pierced all the leading Kurus and broke their standards. So swift was his movement that the Kurus had hardly any opportunity to train their weapons upon him before they were struck by his arrows. The power of his shafts sent them reeling. Many of them sat down on the terraces of their chariots, stunned and wounded.
As the Kurus fell back under the fierce assault, Ghaṭotkaca focused his attention on Duryodhana. He rushed at him with his sword held high. Seeing this, the Kurus rallied and rained arrows on the roaring Rākṣasa. Sorely afflicted, Ghaṭotkaca rose into the sky like an eagle. His roars carried to Yudhiṣṭhira, who said to Bhīma, “Those are surely the roars of your son. I suspect he is under attack from many powerful foes. O foremost of men, go at once to his assistance.”
Bhīma obeyed his brother’s instruction and raced off toward Ghaṭotkaca, supported by other Pāṇḍava chariot-warriors and a large contingent of soldiers. As he approached his son, he shouted out his battle cry.
Hearing Bhīma’s cries, the Kurus turned pale with fear. As he rushed toward them, many fled. But the leading Kurus stood their ground. A violent battle ensued between them and the combined forces of Ghaṭotkaca and Bhīma.
Duryodhana rallied his troops and they returned to the fight only to be slaughtered by the charging Pāṇḍava warriors. The earth became thick with the mutilated bodies of fighters from both sides. The clash of weapons striking armor was deafening. A thick cloud of red dust filled the air and no one could see anything clearly. In that awful and confused encounter, friend struck friend, unable to distinguish him from foe. Gradually, the earth became covered with so much blood that the dust cloud subsided. Everything again became visible, revealing scenes of destruction everywhere.
Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca swept about the field like whirlwinds, killing thousands of men. Duryodhana saw his forces overpowered. He ordered Bhagadatta, the king of Pragyotisha, to attack Bhīma and his son. The mighty warrior rode upon a great elephant no less powerful than Airāvata. Backed by a vast division of other elephant warriors, he advanced toward Bhīma, shouting out his challenge. Seeing him approach like a moving mountain, the Pāṇḍava fighters surrounded him and assailed his elephant with numerous shafts that thudded into its side.
Wounded by hundreds of arrows, the huge beast resembled a hill decorated with seams of red chalk. It screamed in fury and rushed at its foes, trampling entire chariots with their horses, charioteers and warriors. Despite its wounds, the elephant could not be checked.
The ruler of the Dasarhas, Kshatradeva, mounted upon another elephant, ran in fury at Bhagadatta. The two elephants collided, but Bhagadatta’s mount did not waver. Kshatradeva’s mount, however, stumbled backwards. In swift succession, Bhagadatta hurled at him fourteen lances decked with gems and fitted with long, barbed points. They pierced through the elephant’s armor and sent it reeling. Screaming in pain, the Dasarha monarch’s elephant turned and ran, crushing the army to which it belonged. Bhagadatta roared in joy and goaded on his own beast, which began to careen wildly about the field. The unstoppable elephant crushed divisions of soldiers as it ran here and there. The Pāṇḍavas were dispersed and they raced away in all directions, shouting in terror.
Ghaṭotkaca then challenged Bhagadatta with a roar of anger. Assuming an immense form, he hurled a blazing trident at the elephant. As it flew it emitted fire. Bhagadatta instantly shot a crescent-headed shaft that cut the trident down before it reached him. It fell in pieces to the earth like a couple of meteors fallen from heaven. Bhagadatta then threw a lance at the Rākṣasa that blazed as it flew.
Ghaṭotkaca leapt up and caught that lance. Yelling, he broke it across his thighs as the Pāṇḍavas cheered. Infuriated, Bhagadatta rushed at the Pāṇḍava warriors, backed by his elephant division, and a fierce fight ensued. Ghaṭotkaca kept Bhagadatta at bay while Bhīma and other warriors slaughtered the enemy troops.
2.9: Bhīṣma’s Vow
On the far southern side of the battlefield, Arjuna fought the Samshaptakas, headed by Susharma. These warriors were dauntless and had vowed never to retreat. They kept the Pāṇḍava fully engaged and away from Bhīṣma and the other leading Kurus.
Arjuna fought fairly. He would not use the weapons he had received from the gods, even though the celestial missiles were capable of annihilating his human foes. But even with conventional weapons Arjuna was formidable. The Samshaptakas rushed at him in waves, hurling darts, lances, clubs, axes and countless arrows, all of which Arjuna effortlessly countered with his own arrows from the Gāṇḍīva. He repeatedly struck his antagonists with clusters of shafts that tore through their armor. With every attack thousands fell, but they kept coming at him.
Late in the day a messenger reached Arjuna and informed him of Iravan’s death. He immediately cried out and sat down on his chariot. Seeing him overpowered by grief, Kṛṣṇa maneuvered the chariot away from the enemy. Arjuna buried his head in his hands and wept. After a few minutes he said, “Alas, O Lord, I am realizing how pious was Yudhiṣṭhira in seeking to avert this war by any means. Surely that great-minded soul saw clearly how this war would mean such a terrible destruction of men. Therefore he begged for only five small villages. But the mean-spirited Duryodhana refused. Now innumerable kṣatriyas are being slain for the sake of wealth. Seeing all these heroes lying prostrate on the earth, I can only reproach myself. Fie upon the duty of a kṣatriya! Fie upon the desire for kingdom and wealth! I cannot take any pleasure in this battle.”
Arjuna gazed with tearful eyes at the waiting Samshaptakas. There was now no question of abandoning the fight. It was clear that the war would end only when Duryodhana’s forces were annihilated, and him along with them. Arjuna’s grief turned to anger as he thought of Duryodhana’s obstinacy. Now Arjuna’s own dear son had perished thanks to Duryodhana.
Frowning and breathing heavily, Arjuna reached for his bow. “This is no time for a display of feminine sentiments. Drive the chariot toward Duryodhana, O Keśava. Let us cross over this impassable ocean of soldiers. By your grace, dear Lord, I will soon end this war.”
Kṛṣṇa urged the horses forward and the chariot raced across the field. From a distance Arjuna saw the banners of Duryodhana, Droṇa and Bhīṣma, who were fighting together supported by Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā and Bhagadatta. As they saw Arjuna approach, they met him with volleys of arrows. Not tolerating their attack, Arjuna replied with arrows of his own. He began to range about the field firing his shafts on all sides. Each of them flew with unerring accuracy toward its target. Warriors fell from their chariots like ripe fruits falling from trees caught in a gale.
As the sun fell to the west, the battle raged on. The combatants fell upon each other like angry lions fighting for their prey. They dragged one another by the hair and hacked off each other’s limbs and heads. Striking with weapons, fists, feet and teeth, they fought in a frenzy, slaying both armies in droves.
Beautiful bows, their staves decked with gold and jewels, lay discarded on the field. Precious ornaments and arrows soaked in oil shone from the ground. Steel swords with ivory hilts and fine shields embossed with gold engravings fell from their owners’ lifeless hands. Lances, darts, battle-axes and maces, all ornately worked with gold and jewels, were scattered about. Men lay in unnatural positions, still clutching weapons. With wide, staring eyes, they appeared as if still living. Others lay butchered and twisted, their arms and legs akimbo and their mouths hanging open. The smell of blood and burning flesh filled the air.
Toward the end of the day, a fearful fight took place between Bhīma and Duryodhana. Having just single-handedly slain an entire division of ten thousand men, Bhīma heard Duryodhana challenging him. “Stand and fight with me, Bhīma, if you have any courage! So far you have killed only ordinary soldiers. Let us see now how you fare against a truly powerful warrior!”
Clasping his iron mace as if he might crush it, Bhīma laughed. “The hour I have so long anxiously awaited has arrived. Today I will kill you, if you do not abandon the fight out of fear. Today I will soothe the sorrows of Kuntī and Draupadī. Killing you in battle, I will avenge the woes we suffered in the forest. Inflated with pride you have disregarded us. Reap now the fruit of that folly. O man of wicked mind, you have despised even the sinless Kṛṣṇa, although He personally came to Hastināpura to seek peace. Filled with a sick joy you sent Uluka to us with your depraved messages. For all these acts I will dispatch you and your relations to Death’s abode.”
Bhīma lifted his bow and instantly fired thirty-six arrows resembling thunderbolts at Duryodhana. They killed Duryodhana’s horses, knocked his charioteer to the ground, and broke his bow. Bhīma swiftly followed the arrows with two more razor-headed shafts, which cut down Duryodhana’s standard and the white umbrella above his chariot. The Kaurava’s fine standard, emblazoned with a golden serpent and decked with gems, suddenly dropped to the ground and Bhīma roared in exultation.
Duryodhana reached for another bow, but Bhīma struck him with ten more arrows. The Kaurava reeled about on his chariot. Without his horses, he could not maneuver away from Bhīma’s attack. Seeing his plight, Jayadratha advanced and attacked Bhīma with a shower of arrows. At the same time, Kṛpa came up to Duryodhana and took him onto his own chariot.
As Kṛpa carried away the almost unconscious Duryodhana, many other Kaurava fighters attacked Bhīma, who was then joined by Abhimanyu. A ferocious battle ensued among all those heroes. Once again the sun set on scenes of widespread destruction all over the battlefield. The two armies withdrew for the night, praising each other for their respective feats of prowess.
* * *
Back in his tent, Duryodhana slowly came back to his senses. Smarting from the wounds inflicted by Bhīma and from the shame of losing the fight, he began to think of Karṇa. If Bhīṣma was not willing to slay the Pāṇḍavas, then he should stand down and allow Karṇa to fight. The Kaurava prince decided to speak with his friend, who was waiting in the camp for his opportunity to join the battle.
Seeing him entering his tent bloodied and covered with dust, Karṇa jumped up and embraced him. “How fares the Kurus? Are you gaining victory over your enemies and increasing your fame?”
Duryodhana shook his head. “No, my friend, things are not going our way. We are being routed by the warlike Pāṇḍavas, who cannot be slain even by the celestials. Day by day they are grinding down my forces. O Karṇa, I am weakening and our store of weapons has been reduced. I am now wondering if we will ever defeat the Pāṇḍavas.”
Karṇa’s face flushed and he clenched his fists. “Grieve not, O best of the Bharatas. I will do what is pleasing to you without delay. Let Bhīṣma be withdrawn from the battle. When that old hero lays down his weapons, I will come personally to slay the Pāṇḍavas. Bhīṣma will always treat Pāṇḍu’s sons leniently and is incapable of killing them. Order him to stand down, O King. I swear that I will then, before everyone’s eyes, bring down the mighty Pāṇḍavas in battle.”
Karṇa only wanted to say what pleased Duryodhana. He knew that he too could not kill all the Pāṇḍavas; he had promised Kuntī to spare all but Arjuna. At least he would fight with his full power, perhaps killing Arjuna and sending the other brothers fleeing. That would lead to the Kauravas’ victory without a doubt.
Duryodhana was heartened. “Your words fire me with new enthusiasm, O great hero. I will go to Bhīṣma. If the powerful warrior will not agree to slay the Pāṇḍavas tomorrow, then I will return. You will then be able to fight, for I will persuade Bhīṣma to retire.”
Duryodhana left Karṇa’s tent. Mounting his dark-colored horse, he made his way to Bhīṣma’s quarters. Seeing him so badly hurt, Bhīṣma had royal physicians cleanse his wounds. He then personally applied herbs, which quickly healed the prince. By the application of vishalyakarini, a herb taken from the Himālayan mountains, Bhīṣma removed Duryodhana’s pain. As he was treated, the Kaurava leader spoke anxiously with his commander.
“It seems we can do nothing to stop the Pāṇḍavas’ onslaught. O sire, they surge forward and break our lines. Penetrating, crushing, and slaughtering, the mighty warriors gain fame at our expense. Today they smashed apart our formation and routed our troops. I myself have been wounded by Bhīma and almost slain. O best of men, I do not accept that you are incapable of checking the Pāṇḍavas. Tomorrow you should exert your full power. By your grace, I desire to obtain victory and kill Pāṇḍu’s sons.”
Bhīṣma looked with pity upon Duryodhana. He still could not realize that his hope to destroy the Pāṇḍavas was futile. Equally futile was trying to explain that to him. He would have to learn the hard way. Bhīṣma thought of Kṛṣṇa. Whatever plans or maneuvers the Kurus attempted, no matter how skillful, Kṛṣṇa would doubtlessly thwart. Yet as the commander of the Kuru army, Bhīṣma knew it was his duty to do everything in his power to try to defeat the Pāṇḍavas. Duty was painful. At least it brought him into contact with Kṛṣṇa, and that could never be inauspicious under any circumstances.
Having finished his medical administrations, Bhīṣma took his seat by Duryodhana’s side. “I have fought to the utmost of my power each day.” The old Kuru held up his arms, which were scarred from countless strikes of the bowstring. “I have slain tens of thousands of warriors. Still, I cannot harm the Pāṇḍavas and their foremost fighters. They are protected by virtue and by the Lord of virtue himself. What can exertion achieve?”
Duryodhana folded his palms as he addressed Bhīṣma. “Relying on you, O slayer of foes, we are capable of vanquishing in battle even the celestials and Asuras combined. What then of the Pāṇḍavas? How can I believe that you cannot kill five men, even if they are supported by their relatives and allies?”
Tears flowed from Duryodhana’s eyes. “O son of Gaṅgā, O lord, you should be merciful to me. Slay the sons of Pāṇḍu like Indra slays the Dānavas. Make good your promise to me that you would slaughter the enemy armies. Exhibit your full power and kill the five brothers along with all their followers.”
Duryodhana paused and breathed deeply. He looked into Bhīṣma’s eyes. “Or, if out of compassion for them, O lord, or hatred for me, you do not wish to kill the Pāṇḍavas, then please step down and allow Karṇa to fight. That great hero, the very ornament of battle, has promised to kill Kuntī’s sons and all their allies.”
Bhīṣma felt the dagger of Duryodhana’s words pierce his heart. The prince’s suggestion that he was not trying his best only compounded the pain he already felt at having to fight in the first place. It seemed Duryodhana had no intelligence. Had he not seen how hard his warriors had been fighting? What more did he think Karṇa could achieve? Bhīṣma remained silent for a moment to control his anger. Breathing heavily and clutching the hilt of his sword, he finally said in a cool voice, “Why, O Duryodhana, are you stinging me with this insult? I am always endeavoring to the best of my ability to accomplish your good, even at the cost of my life. I say the Pāṇḍavas are invincible. Is it not sufficient evidence that Arjuna gratified Agni by withholding the celestial hosts at Khāṇḍava? Or that he and his brother rescued you from the enraged Gandharvas? Where was the suta’s son that time?”
Bhīṣma felt an increasing sense of frustration as he addressed Duryodhana. The prince thought only of himself. He cared nothing for others. Why could he not understand what was in his own best interests in this case? Surely he was blinded by envy and hatred for his cousins. Thus he embraced his own destruction, even as it unfolded before his eyes.
Mixed with his frustration, Bhīṣma felt compassion. “Surely a man on the brink of death loses his senses, O son of Gāndhārī. You cannot see the inevitable consequences of the enmity you have created with the Pāṇḍavas. Standing as they are with the immortal and infallible Keśava on the field, there can only be one outcome. This is your doing. Why do you rant? The time you have long anticipated has arrived. Now match your malice with acts of valor. Display your long-vaunted prowess in battle and end this conflict.”
Servants entered the tent to inform Bhīṣma and the prince that their meal was ready. Duryodhana dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He had no appetite. Since the battle had begun, he had hardly eaten, refusing even the wine which he normally enjoyed so much. His mind thought only of the Pāṇḍavas and how they might be slain. Sitting at Bhīṣma’s feet, he looked up at him imploringly. If the son of Gaṅgā became determined, then the Pāṇḍavas were as good as dead.
Bhīṣma drew a deep breath. “You should know, O monarch, that I will not at any time abandon you or the Kurus. Such is the duty of kṣatriyas and indeed my own determination. For your sake, O King, I will make a mighty effort to bring about the Pāṇḍavas’ death tomorrow. Breaking through the hostile ranks I will personally confront them in the thick of battle. Any who come to protect them will be at once killed. With the exception of Śikhaṇḍī, I will spare none.”
Bhīṣma reached down by his side and lifted up his large silver quiver, which was studded with precious stones. He extracted five shining arrows, gilded with gold and decked with gems. These arrows were fitted with long spiked heads and fletched with buzzard feathers. Bhīṣma spread out a silk cloth on the ground and carefully placed the five arrows upon it. As Duryodhana watched, he sat in meditation for a few moments, muttering Vedic mantras.
Finally he said, “I have imbued these five arrows with the full force of my ascetic powers. Even Indra would not escape them. With them, I will kill the five Pāṇḍavas tomorrow.”
Bhīṣma’s voice was flat and cheerless. Tears came to his eyes as he continued. “Sleep peacefully tonight, O King. In the morning I will come out and fight a terrible battle, the like of which has never been seen. The Pāṇḍavas will not escape. Only Kṛṣṇa can save them, but He has vowed not to take up weapons.”
A smile touched the corner of Bhīṣma’s mouth. Would Kṛṣṇa find some way to save His beloved servants? That would be wonderful indeed. But failing that, the Pāṇḍavas would be finished. His empowered arrows would not fail.
Duryodhana jumped to his feet beaming and slapping his arms. Then he became thoughtful. Like Bhīṣma, he also wondered if Kṛṣṇa might devise some means to thwart the plan. Looking down at the arrows lying before Bhīṣma, he said, “Let me keep these shafts tonight. I will guard them carefully and hand them over to you at the start of the battle.”
Bhīṣma nodded and Duryodhana took the arrows. He bowed before Bhīṣma and went to his own quarters, carefully placing the arrows by his bed. Now surely the Pāṇḍavas were doomed. Bhīṣma was famous everywhere as Devavrataḥ, one of unbreakable vows. Nothing would stop him from fulfilling his promise. Duryodhana lay down happily to rest. He could not wait for the next day’s battle.
* * *
Yudhiṣṭhira sat in his tent surrounded by his brothers. After eight days of fighting, it seemed his forces were gaining the upper hand. Although pleased, Yudhiṣṭhira was simultaneously saddened that so many men were being slaughtered. By the time the war ended, the earth would be full of widows. Yet what could be done? He had made every attempt to bring about peace. The stubborn Duryodhana and his blind father were to blame. Now they were suffering the results of their folly. They were so foolish that not even Kṛṣṇa could change their minds. Yudhiṣṭhira looked at Kṛṣṇa. The Yādava hero had assumed a pensive expression. As everyone settled into their seats around him, he began to speak.
“We are becoming successful in this fight. Bhīma and Arjuna are crushing the Kauravas, supported by all you men. In my view, our enemies will resort to every desperate means to reverse the situation. Even now I sense that they are devising some dangerous scheme.”
Kṛṣṇa looked at Arjuna, who sat apart from the others, his head bowed. He thought only of Iravan. The Nāga prince had fought only out of love for his father. Arjuna remembered the day long gone when he had conceived Iravan with Ulūpī. She had raised the boy among the Nāgas, but he had sometimes come to see Arjuna at Indraprastha. Tears fell from Arjuna’s eyes as he recalled the days he had spent with his son. Now that boy lay on a hero’s bed, another victim of Duryodhana’s greed. Arjuna sighed and looked through the tent opening into the dark night.
Kṛṣṇa moved toward His friend and placed an arm round his shoulder. “O Pārtha, holding fast to the duty of a kṣatriya, dismiss this grief. Your son has surely reached everlasting regions of bliss. Shake off your sorrow and fix your mind on the fight.”
Arjuna wiped his eyes and turned toward Kṛṣṇa. How fortunate he was that the Lord of all beings was personally present to keep him fixed in virtue. The duty of a warrior was certainly not easy.
Kṛṣṇa smiled comfortingly as He went on. “There is something you must do tonight, Arjuna. Do you recall the time when you saved Duryodhana from the Gandharvas--how he then promised to return the favor? I believe that time has now come. The Kaurava has in his possession five arrows meant for the death of you and your brothers. O Arjuna, go to him in friendship and ask for the arrows.”
Arjuna remembered that day in the forest when he had released Duryodhana and his brothers. The Kaurava had been consumed by shame, yet his kṣatriya honor had compelled him to admit he owed Arjuna a boon. Arjuna recalled how he had laughed and said he would claim it in the future. He had thought that day would never come, but it seemed that Kṛṣṇa thought differently.
Arjuna began to remove his armor. “O Janārdana, I will always follow Your determination. I will go at once to Duryodhana.”
Unarmed and alone, Arjuna mounted a white horse and rode across to the Kaurava camp. By the kṣatriya’s code of honor he knew he faced no danger. Many times after the day’s fighting, the soldiers of the two armies would meet together as friends. The Kaurava guards stood aside as they saw Arjuna arrive. He was quickly shown to Duryodhana’s quarters, where he found the prince about to sleep.
Duryodhana stood up in surprise as Arjuna was shown in. “Hail, O Pārtha,” he said, pointing to a seat near his bed. “You are welcome. Tell me, why you are here? Have you come to ask for the kingdom without a fight? If so, then I will give it to you at once.”
Arjuna knew that Duryodhana was being facetious. Arjuna would never beg for anything. If he were to take the kingdom now, it would only be at the end of the war, after his enemies were slain. But he obviously wanted something. Duryodhana looked at him curiously.
Arjuna continued to stand. “O hero, I have come here remembering that you offered me a boon. Do you recall that promise?”
Duryodhana shrank with shame as he thought back to that day. “Yes, of course I remember it well. What would you ask of me?”
“I believe you have here five arrows, O Bharata. I wish to have them.”
Duryodhana looked at him with shock, but without hesitation he reached down and picked up the arrows. Placing them across his outstretched hands, he offered them to Arjuna. “Take them at once, Pārtha, but pray tell me how you knew about them.”
Taking the arrows and thanking Duryodhana, Arjuna told him that Kṛṣṇa had informed him of their existence. He then took his leave and returned to Yudhiṣṭhira’s tent, leaving Duryodhana seated on his bed, wringing his hands. Kṛṣṇa again! Maybe the eulogies of Bhīṣma and Vidura were true. There was surely something extraordinary about that Yādava. It seemed He knew everything. Duryodhana lay down and gazed up at the empty expanse of the tent’s large roof. Was there any hope of victory? Perhaps. The arrows may be gone, but Bhīṣma had still decided to kill the Pāṇḍavas.
2.10: Kṛṣṇa Protects His Devotee
At sunrise the following morning, Bhīṣma went to Duryodhana and asked for the arrows. Hearing that Arjuna had taken them at Kṛṣṇa’s behest, Bhīṣma smiled. He was not surprised. Even if he had kept the arrows, Kṛṣṇa would no doubt have found some way to thwart him. While Kṛṣṇa rode on Arjuna’s chariot, the Kurus were doomed. How much longer could this fight go on? Would everyone have to die before it was over?
Donning his armor Bhīṣma said, “It seems the Yādava has made my promise false. I cannot invest another five arrows with the same power. Therefore, it will not be possible for me to slay the five brothers today. However, I will still exert myself on your behalf. Everything that lies within my power will be done. I will focus my attention on Arjuna. Even if I slay him alone, your purpose will be accomplished.”
As he prepared for the day’s fighting Bhīṣma thought of Kṛṣṇa’s promise not to take up arms in the battle. Well, today he would test that promise. If the Yadu hero made him forsake his vow, then he would force Kṛṣṇa to break His own. Either He would have to fight or He would see His beloved Arjuna slain.
Bhīṣma mounted his chariot and moved off to the head of the army. Shouting commands he arranged the Kauravas in the formation named Sarvabhadra. It resembled an eagle with outspread wings. With Kṛpa, Kṛtavarmā, Jayadratha and other kings, he stationed himself at the front and center of the troops. Other mighty heroes stood at the right and left wings, guarding the infantry in their separate divisions. Duryodhana stood in the middle, surrounded by his brothers and protected by Droṇa and his son. Alambusha and his Rākṣasas stood in the rear, along with tens of thousands of other soldiers.
Duryodhana looked at Bhīṣma at the front of his army. Amid the Kauravas, the old hero shone like the moon. The prince felt his hopes rise. With Bhīṣma exhibiting his full power, the Pāṇḍavas would doubtlessly be thrown into complete disarray. Still, they would try by any means to stop him. But there was only one person capable of that, at least according to the prophesy.
Duryodhana turned to Dushashana and called out, “Today the grandfather will slay our enemies in battle like a fire burning grass. Surely that which we have longed for all these years will now be achieved. Thus I consider it our highest duty to protect Bhīṣma. But for Śikhaṇḍī, he said, he will slay anyone who crosses his path in the battle. We should therefore ensure that he does not have to face Drupada’s son. We should not let Śikhaṇḍī kill him, like a wolf in a pack slaying a lone lion.”
On Duryodhana’s order, many powerful chariot warriors rode up to surround Bhīṣma. The army then moved off, shaking the earth.
On the other side of the field, the Pāṇḍava forces stood ready for battle. Cased in shining mail and arrayed in a counter-formation, they advanced toward their foe. Arjuna, riding alongside Dṛṣṭadyumna, said, “Today Bhīṣma, feeling that we deceived him, will be angry. Therefore let Śikhaṇḍī face him. I will protect your brother.”
Then the two armies clashed. Amid war cries and the blare of countless instruments, they met furiously. Above the soldiers hovered shrieking birds of prey. Jackals howled. All the points of the compass appeared as if ablaze, and showers of stones fell from the sky. The horses and other animals shed tears and stumbled as they ran. Despite these inauspicious omens, which portended a massacre, the warriors rushed into battle with full force. They drove remorselessly into one another, hacking, slicing and piercing. The chariot-warriors showered volleys of shafts that fell like grey clouds from the sky, while countless lances sped through the air like silver- and gold-winged serpents.
Breaking forward from the Pāṇḍava ranks, Abhimanyu displayed astonishing skill and power. Driven by tawny-colored horses he charged against Duryodhana and his division. He shot arrows at the prince and all his followers with such force and speed that they were stunned and unable to respond. Many heroic chariot fighters were slain by his unerring shafts. Chariots were smashed and elephants were brought down. Abhimanyu’s arrows flew like virulent serpents spitting fire. He scattered the Kaurava divisions like a wind scatters clouds. They could hardly look at him as he careered about the field, his bow drawn constantly to a circle. As Abhimanyu crushed them, the Kaurava warriors considered him another Arjuna. No one could detect any weakness in him. He even confounded Droṇa, Kṛpa and Aśvatthāmā, who all tried to check him. The Kauravas broke and fled in terror.
Seeing his troops’ distress, Duryodhana called for Alambusha and instructed him, “Singlehandedly, Subhadrā’s son is destroying my troops. I do not see any way to stop him other than through yourself, O prince of Rākṣasas. Go at once and slay him. In the meantime, Bhīṣma, Droṇa and I will slay Arjuna.”
Alambusha bowed to the command and uttered a deafening roar that shook the earth. Upon hearing the roar, warriors fell stunned to the ground. Abhimanyu, however, was delighted to see the Rākṣasa charge him. Grasping his tall bow, he urged his charioteer to approach him. He appeared to be dancing in his chariot as he released arrows at Alambusha and his followers.
The Rākṣasas began crushing the divisions supporting Abhimanyu. Alambusha moved with such speed and power that he quickly killed thousands of warriors. His arrows fell like poisonous showers and consumed the Pāṇḍava forces. Seeing the Rākṣasa’s prowess, Draupadī’s five sons rushed at him like five planets rushing at the sun. Yudhiṣṭhira’s son, Prativindya, pierced his armor with a number of keen arrows that screamed through the air. Shining, blood flowing from his wounds, the Rākṣasa was as beautiful as a dark cloud fringed with the sun’s red rays. The Pāṇḍavas’ sons continued to rain fierce shafts on Alambusha from all sides. Sorely afflicted and wounded, he became infuriated like a snake who had been carelessly kicked. Unable to gather his senses under the attack, he crouched down in his chariot and swooned for a few moments.
As the Rākṣasa regained consciousness, he rose to his feet and swelled with anger. He shot long arrows decked with buzzard feathers that broke apart his adversaries’ bows and standards. Every one of the five brothers standing against him was severely wounded. The frenzied Alambusha sent his deadly arrows with frightening force. The shafts slew the four horses drawing each of his opponents’ chariots, and killed the charioteers. He pierced the brothers again and again with arrows that resembled fiery meteors.
With his bow working non-stop, Alambusha rushed against his foes, intent on slaying them, but as he approached them he was checked by a volley of arrows from Abhimanyu. The Rākṣasa turned his attention to Subhadrā’s son, and a ferocious battle ensued between the two heroes. Their eyes red with rage, they gazed at each other for some moments. Both of them roared and clutched their bows as they circled each other on their cars. Suddenly, they both released arrows, their bows twanging like thunderclaps. The Rākṣasa employed his illusory powers and Abhimanyu countered with celestial weapons.
The sky between the two fighters was filled with clouds of arrows. Fire and smoke issued from them as they struck each other in mid-air and fell to the earth. Each seeking the weak point in the other, the two warriors pierced one another on the chest, arms and legs. Although hit with powerful shafts that stuck from their bodies like trees on a mountain, neither fighter flinched.
Abhimanyu then fired arrows that passed clean through the Rākṣasa’s body and entered the earth like red serpents going into a hole. Alambusha gasped in pain and turned his face away. By his mystic power he spread a cloak of darkness over the battlefield. No one could see anything in the gloom. Then Abhimanyu invoked the Sūrya-astra. As the effulgent weapon appeared, the battlefield was once again illuminated. Abhimanyu then covered his adversary with a network of golden arrows. Finding himself hard-pressed, the Rākṣasa employed many kinds of illusion. He made strange beings appear on the field. Blazing weapons of all sorts fell on Abhimanyu from all sides.
Unperturbed, Abhimanyu countered the illusions with his celestial missiles. Alambusha, his mystic powers neutralized by Kṛṣṇa’s nephew, was overwhelmed. He leapt down from his chariot and fled.
After defeating the Rākṣasa, Abhimanyu began crushing the Kaurava troops like an infuriated elephant crushes lotuses in a lake. Only Bhīṣma could check him. The Kuru grandfather was backed by many other powerful chariot fighters. Similarly, many Pāṇḍava warriors supported Abhimanyu and a general fight ensued.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Duryodhana, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Susharma, and the Trigarta army encountered Arjuna. Both sides invoked their celestial weapons as they assailed one another to their full power. As they contended together Droṇa and Arjuna appeared like Śiva and Yamarāja. Forgetful of their relationship, they fought remorselessly.
Challenging Arjuna repeatedly, the Trigartas poured their arrows upon him from all sides. Although assailed by a thick shower of shafts, Arjuna exhibited his lightness of hand by countering them. Even the celestials cheered Arjuna’s skill.
Infuriated at being attacked by so many warriors at once, Arjuna invoked the Vāyu-astra. That irresistible weapon created a tempest that hurled warriors, chariots and elephants all around the field. Seeing the destruction that weapon wrought, Droṇa countered it with the Saila missile. The wind subsided and men and horses fell from the sky.
Arjuna, moving with blinding speed, fired innumerable arrows that sent the Trigarta division reeling. The chariot fighters ranging against Arjuna fell screaming from their shattered cars. Quickly, he was surrounded by Duryodhana, Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, Śalya, Bāhlika, and a number of other Kaurava maharathas. Bhagadatta and Srutayush, heading an elephant division, surrounded Bhīma, who was supporting his younger brother.
While numerous fighters held the two Pāṇḍavas at bay, Bhīṣma approached Yudhiṣṭhira. The Kuru chief knew that if he could capture Yudhiṣṭhira, the war would be over. He surrounded him with thousands of chariots and horsemen. The eldest Pāṇḍava, supported by Dṛṣṭadyumna, Sātyaki, Śikhaṇḍī and other heroes, fought off his attack.
Seeing himself surrounded by many elephants, Bhīma licked the corners of his mouth and smiled. He grasped his mace and leapt from his chariot with a roar. The elephant warriors closed in on him, goading their rocking beasts with their hooks. In the midst of the elephant division Bhīma resembled the sun amid dark clouds. Then like a tempest scattering clouds, he moved swiftly among his opponents. Struck by Bhīma’s flailing mace, the elephants shrieked.
The elephants gored Bhīma as he fought. The blood running from his wounds made him appear like a blossoming ashoka tree. Catching hold of the elephants’ tusks he wrenched them out and felled the screaming beasts with blows from his mace. Although the elephants were highly trained in crushing and killing, Bhīma was able to slaughter their entire division. The survivors ran frantically back through their own ranks, trampling soldiers and chariots as they fled.
In the meantime, Arjuna had repelled the warriors who surrounded him. The Kauravas had fled. Both Bhīma and Arjuna then came to support Yudhiṣṭhira, who was still under Bhīṣma’s attack. In his fury, Bhīṣma had alone crushed a huge detachment of Somakas. Although the Somakas were fierce fighters, they could not face Bhīṣma.
Virata, Drupada and Drupada’s two sons came before Bhīṣma and challenged him. They pierced him with arrows decked with gems. Śikhaṇḍī came forward and shouted out his challenge, firing a hundred shafts, but Bhīṣma did not respond. Turning from Śikhaṇḍī he attacked Drupada and Virata. Dṛṣṭadyumna brought his chariot to the fore and shot three arrows that penetrated Bhīṣma’s armor and pierced his chest. Bathed in blood he shone all the more on the battlefield. Without flinching, he struck Dṛṣṭadyumna with twenty-five arrows, then fired an arrow which cut Drupada’s bow.
At that time, Bhīma and Arjuna arrived and the battle raged on between the two sides. Both armies were fearless. Embracing a hero’s death, their minds fixed on heaven, they rushed at their foes with uplifted weapons. Many warriors fell to the ground and lay there laughing as they died. Horses dashed about wildly with their warriors hanging lifeless from the saddle. Chariot fighters fell from their cars with their armor smashed and their limbs severed. So many men were slain that it appeared as if a river
of blood flowed across the earth, carrying heads, arms, legs and torsos. Heroes were cheered by the sight and cowards became afraid.
As the carnage increased, the kings and kṣatriyas censured Duryodhana. “All this destruction has arisen through the folly of that prince and his blind father. Why did Dhṛtarāṣṭra, of crooked mind and intentions, infatuated by greed, harbor feelings of envy toward the sinless Pāṇḍavas?”
Hearing their cries, Duryodhana scowled. He looked at Bhīṣma and Droṇa, calling out, “Do not heed these shouts. Fight with determination and slay our enemies before they annihilate us. O Grandsire, why do you tarry?”
Bhīṣma turned to Duryodhana and raised his hand in silent assent. He gazed around the field. Some way off he could see Arjuna’s standard rising above the battle. He could hear Hanumān crying on the flag. Bhīṣma again thought of Kṛṣṇa. Soon the Yādava would see His dearest friend in danger. By His cunning He may have saved the Pāṇḍavas last night, but now He would need more than that to save Arjuna. Bhīṣma was filled with joy at the thought. Whatever Kṛṣṇa decided would doubtlessly be for his good, and the good of the world.
Bhīṣma ordered his charioteer to move toward Arjuna. Remembering his promise he slew every soldier he saw. Arjuna was fighting with Susharma and his army when Bhīṣma arrived. Like the Destroyer himself, he was slaughtering their warriors mercilessly. No one could stand before him for even a moment before being struck by his shafts. Faced with the impossible task of fighting Arjuna, many warriors fled in terror. Some left their horses, others their chariots, and some their elephants, to escape on foot in their panic. Others galloped away at full speed, not looking back. Although Susharma tried to rally his troops, they paid him no heed. Soon the king stood in the battle with only his own brother supporting him. Duryodhana saw his plight and came to assist him. With Bhīṣma, they assailed Arjuna with volleys of shafts.
The other Pāṇḍavas then rushed to Arjuna’s assistance. At the same time, other great fighters among the Kauravas came to Bhīṣma’s side. Soon a mighty battle between the best warriors on both sides ensued. Sātyaki and Kṛtavarmā, disregarding their long friendship, battled together. Droṇa fought Drupada, while Bhīma engaged with Bāhlika. Duryodhana and Śakuni, along with some of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s other sons, fought Yudhiṣṭhira and the twins.
Bhīṣma slew the Pāṇḍava troops with a vengeance. It appeared that even Death personified could not approach him. Ten thousand chariot warriors from the races of the Cediś, Kashis and Karushas, all fearless and unretreating in battle, rushed at Bhīṣma, but he killed them all.
Now the Pāṇḍava army began to flee. Seeing this, Kṛṣṇa said, “O Pārtha, the hour which you have so ardently longed for has now arrived. Make good the words you spoke at Virata’s palace. Before the assembled kings you said, ‘I will slay any and all of Duryodhana’s fighters, headed by Bhīṣma and Droṇa.’ O grinder of foes, make true your words. Remembering the duties of your order, do not hesitate. Fight and slay Bhīṣma before he destroys our army.”
Arjuna stood in his chariot, his head hung down. He knew it was indeed time to try to kill his grandfather. Heavy with sadness, he looked at Kṛṣṇa and replied, “Burdensome is the duty of a kṣatriya in this world. Killing those who ought not to be slain, he strives for wealth and power. Yet, O Janārdana, I must do Your bidding. That is my highest duty. Then drive my horses toward that virtuous man of irresistible splendor. Today I will kill Bhīṣma.”
Kṛṣṇa took up the reins and the horses moved according to His will. The Pāṇḍava troops, seeing Arjuna rushing for an encounter with Bhīṣma, rallied.
Bhīṣma roared out his war cry and covered Arjuna’s chariot with a blanket of arrows. Kṛṣṇa dexterously drove the chariot out from under the attack and Arjuna fired a broad-headed shaft that split Bhīṣma’s bow in two. Bhīṣma immediately strung another, but before he could fit an arrow to it, Arjuna again destroyed it. Bhīṣma smiled and cheered Arjuna. “Well done, well done, O mighty-armed one.”
Evading Arjuna’s arrows, the Kuru chief took up another bow, then spun around to fire dozens of shafts at his foe. Again Kṛṣṇa baffled the attack by His expert chariot driving. None of Bhīṣma’s arrows found their mark, and they whistled past harmlessly. Bhīṣma increased the intensity of his assault, anticipating Kṛṣṇa’s moves and striking both Him and Arjuna with numerous shafts. Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, mangled by Bhīṣma’s arrows, appeared beautiful, like a pair of heifers scratched by each other’s horns. Arjuna countered Bhīṣma’s attack, but found himself unable to strike his beloved grandfather with all his might.
Bhīṣma maintained a relentless assault on Arjuna. At the same time he attacked the surrounding Pāṇḍava troops. The twang of his bow made one continuous roaring sound. His shafts streaked in all directions. Passing through the bodies of warriors, horses and elephants and killing them, the fearful shafts then entered the earth.
Bhīṣma concentrated his attack on Arjuna’s chariot. He struck Kṛṣṇa with a number of shafts and the Yādava trembled in His seat as He guided the horses. Laughing loudly, Bhīṣma rained thousands of arrows on Arjuna. Still the Pāṇḍava resisted him only half-heartedly.
Kṛṣṇa looked astonished to see Bhīṣma’s prowess. It seemed like the Kuru warrior would consume the three worlds. Bhīṣma stood in battle like the Destroyer on the day of universal dissolution. Seeing him killing the foremost Pāṇḍava warriors, and that Arjuna was not fighting to his full power, Kṛṣṇa became thoughtful. Bhīṣma could kill the combined armies of the gods and Asuras if left unchecked. Unless Arjuna did something, then even he would succumb to Bhīṣma’s deadly shafts. Already he was sorely afflicted.
Kṛṣṇa reflected, “I will personally slay Bhīṣma. I cannot tolerate the slaughter of the Pāṇḍavas. Arjuna is not doing what he should do out of his respect for Bhīṣma. Therefore I will lighten the Pāṇḍavas’ load by killing that best of men in battle.”
Even as Kṛṣṇa thought in this way, Bhīṣma stepped up his attack. By employing celestial weapons, he fired so many arrows that all points of the compass around Arjuna were covered. Neither the sky, the earth, nor the sun could be seen. Yudhiṣṭhira’s troops were crushed and forced back by the irresistible wall of arrows. Jumping down from their cars, they fled in terror. Arjuna’s chariot was entirely shrouded. Neither he nor Kṛṣṇa were visible. Only his tall standard could be seen. Seeing him hard-pressed, Dṛṣṭadyumna blew his conch and came to his aid.
Kṛṣṇa whirled Arjuna’s chariot around and managed to evade Bhīṣma’s attack. Seeing Dṛṣṭadyumna coming up, He called out, “O hero of the Sinis, our men are retreating. The grandfather is slaying them like a lion killing deer. Behold! I will Myself kill that hero of fixed vows along with all his followers and the sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra. O Satvata chief, no one can escape Me when I am angry. With great joy I will secure the kingdom for Ajātaśatru.”
Kṛṣṇa threw down the reins and leapt from the chariot. Taking up a nearby chariot wheel, He raised it above His head as if it were His own favorite weapon, the Sudarśana chakra. He ran toward Bhīṣma as a lion might run at an elephant. The end of His yellow silk garment fluttered in the dusty air, resembling lightning dancing in a dark cloud. The wheel in His hand seemed to glow with His own effulgence, and it looked as beautiful as the primeval lotus from which Brahmā was born. Kṛṣṇa’s dark arm appeared like the stalk of the lotus, and His charming face, covered with beads of perspiration, was its filament.
Seeing Kṛṣṇa intent on Bhīṣma’s destruction, the Kurus felt their end was near. Kṛṣṇa looked like the all-destroying Samvartaka cloud, which appears at the end of the millenium.
Bhīṣma’s limbs trembled and his eyes flooded with tears. Here was the Lord of the universe, breaking His own promise to protect His devotee. The Kuru hero threw down his weapons and stretched out his arms. As Kṛṣṇa approached him he called out, “Come, come, my Lord. O Supreme Deity, Lord of all the gods, I bow to You. Seeing You forsake Your vow to save Your friend, and thus fulfilling my own desire, I am satisfied. Fell me from this chariot, O Keśava. Killed by You, O Janārdana, I will obtain great good fortune. My fame and dignity will be celebrated throughout the worlds.”
Arjuna was mortified to see Kṛṣṇa breaking His promise not to fight. It was his fault. If he had exerted himself against Bhīṣma, this would not have been necessary. Of course, Kṛṣṇa’s promise had been that He would not wield weapons in the war, and a wheel was hardly a weapon, but still, He would be condemned by foolish men for His apparent dishonesty.
Arjuna put down his bow and jumped from the chariot. His armor flashing in the late afternoon sun, he ran after Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇa had covered almost half the distance to Bhīṣma. As He ran with the upraised wheel, His upper garment fell from His body into the mud. Gazing at Bhīṣma with eyes red with anger, He shouted, “You are the root of this great slaughter. A wise minister who treads the path of virtue should restrain a wicked king by any means. If that is not possible, then such a wretched monarch should be abandoned.”
Arjuna succeeding in reaching Kṛṣṇa. Hurling himself forward, he caught hold of Kṛṣṇa’s legs. But even with Arjuna hanging onto His thighs, Kṛṣṇa continued to run at Bhīṣma.
Bhīṣma bowed his head and replied to Kṛṣṇa as He came near. “You forever speak the truth, my Lord. I told Dhṛtarāṣṭra to abandon Duryodhana, even as the Bhojas abandoned Kaṁsa, but he did not listen. Surely destiny is all-powerful.”
Dragged by Kṛṣṇa, Arjuna dug his feet into the ground. After taking ten steps with the Pāṇḍava gripping Him tightly, Kṛṣṇa was at last brought to a stop. Arjuna released His legs and fell at His feet. “Quell Your anger, O Keśava. You are the Pāṇḍavas’ refuge, without doubt, but please do not violate Your promise. These were Your words, O Lord: ‘I will not take up arms.’ Do not falsify Your vow. I swear by my sons and brothers that I will make good my promise. You will see me fight as never before. O Kṛṣṇa, at Your command, I shall surely annihilate the Kurus, headed by Bhīṣma.”
Hearing Arjuna’s promise, Kṛṣṇa was pacified. He lowered the chariot wheel. As Bhīṣma looked on in wonder, both Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna turned and walked back to their chariot. Even as they were returning, the sun set and the day’s hostilities ended. Conches were blown on both sides and the two armies withdrew. The battle-weary warriors made their way to their camps, speaking of the wonderful incident between Kṛṣṇa and Bhīṣma. The Kuru chief himself thought only of Kṛṣṇa as he led his forces away for the night. The image of the Yādava hero running toward him with the upraised wheel would stay forever in his heart.
2.11: Yudhiṣṭhira Approaches Bhīṣma
In the Pāṇḍava camp everyone was talking about Bhīṣma. The next day would be the tenth day of battle, and still the Kuru commander was scorching their army. It seemed there was no way to stop him. If Kṛṣṇa had not taken matters into His own hands today, then even Arjuna might have been killed. Surely no fighter could equal him anywhere in the three worlds.
As the Pāṇḍavas consulted with their allies, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O Keśava, Bhīṣma ranges across the battlefield like an all-consuming fire. We dare not even look at him as he stands with his weapons raised, his face blazing with anger. Even the god of death wielding his mace, or Varuṇa his noose, or Indra his thunderbolt might be overcome, but not Bhīṣma. O Kṛṣṇa, I am again thinking of retiring from this battle. So many heroes have died. It is clear that none will survive this fight. Bhīṣma will destroy our forces. We are like insects rushing into a blazing fire. Thus it is preferable to stop now and spend the rest of my days practicing asceticism. What do you advise, O Janārdana? My mind is afflicted by duality and doubt.”
Even though He had spent the day exerting Himself fully as Arjuna’s charioteer, Kṛṣṇa appeared fresh and spotless. A garland of unfading lotuses and necklaces of pearls and gems rested on His chest. Lifting a graceful hand He replied, “O son of Dharma, do not indulge in grief. On your side you have warriors equal to the gods. All of your brothers still stand ready to do your bidding in the battle, and all of them are invincible. I too am here to do you good, O mighty monarch. Simply order Me and I will personally slay Bhīṣma. For your sake, O son of Pāṇḍu, what would I not do? I can challenge Bhīṣma and kill him before Duryodhana’s eyes. Even if Arjuna is reluctant, you will not find Me so. If you feel that by killing Bhīṣma victory will be attained, then riding out alone, I shall end his life.”
Kṛṣṇa glanced affectionately at all the Pāṇḍavas. “He who is inimical toward your brothers is My enemy. Your friends are as dear to Me as My own relatives. Arjuna is My friend, relative and disciple. For him I would cut off and give away My own flesh. He too would lay down his own life for My sake. “Although I am ready to do whatever is necessary, I think Arjuna should keep his vow. He should slay the grandfather, not Me. There is also the prophesy regarding Śikhaṇḍī. Somehow Śikhaṇḍī will be involved in Bhīṣma’s destruction. The grandfather’s death is imminent. He has lost his good sense and no longer knows right from wrong. Let us therefore act now to bring about his end.”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “It is exactly as You say, Madhusudana. You are capable of destroying the entire universe with all its moving and nonmoving creatures. With Your support alone I am sure to obtain everything I desire, but I cannot let Your words be falsified for my sake. It is already enough that You came close to breaking Your promise today. You must not kill Bhīṣma. I think we will be able to find some other means, my Lord.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s brothers nodded their approval. Kṛṣṇa was like their second self. They would never be able to tolerate hearing Him criticized. Kṛṣṇa’s words were meant to guide all men. If He broke His word, then others would follow His example and the whole world would be ruined. People would disregard His instructions and end up in hell.
Remembering what Bhisma had said to him at the beginning of the battle, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “It is Bhīṣma himself who will tell us how to kill him. Alas, how vile is a kṣatriya’s duty that I must now seek to kill he who became our father when we were fatherless. That one who has always sought our good and loved us as his own, that aged grandsire, I now wish to kill.”
Consoling the weeping Yudhiṣṭhira, Kṛṣṇa said, “Take heart, O hero. The son of Gaṅgā has chosen to follow Duryodhana and thus cannot avoid death in this battle. You have spoken rightly. We must hear from Bhīṣma himself how he may be slain. This was his promise to you. Let us go to him now and once more beseech him. If you question him, he will surely speak the truth. O Yudhiṣṭhira, take off your armor and we will go and see the son of Gaṅgā.”
Servants removed the Pāṇḍavas’ armor and they then accompanied Kṛṣṇa to the Kaurava camp. They were ushered into Bhīṣma’s tent and they bowed at his feet. Bhīṣma’s face lit up when he saw them. “Welcome, O best of the Vrishnis. Welcome too, all you sons of Pāṇḍu.”
Bhīṣma stood resplendent in his white silks. He waved his long arm toward the many fine golden seats arranged around him on the silk rugs in his tent. After his visitors were seated, he took his own seat and said, “What can I do for your delight? I will do it with all my soul, even if it is extremely difficult to accomplish.”
Yudhiṣṭhira folded his palms. Looking at Bhīṣma he remembered their years together in Hastināpura. His heart melted and he could hardly speak. Glancing across at Kṛṣṇa to gain strength, he took a deep breath and addressed the old Kuru leader. “O Bhīṣma, O highly learned man, please tell us how we may gain victory in this fight. How can we put an end to this slaughter? O lord, please tell us how we may vanquish you. You do not display even the slightest weakness in battle. Your bow is always drawn fully. No one can see when you take up your shafts, place them on your bow, and fire them. Who could dare face you when you blaze forth with such awful prowess? Each day you slaughter more of my army, and I fear that soon we shall be ruined. Thus I have come to you again, as you instructed me, O Grandsire.”
Bhīṣma was moved as he looked at Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers. All of them carried scars from the wounds they had received in the battle. All of them were gazing reverentially at his face. How different they were from Duryodhana and his brothers! Bhīṣma knew that if he told Yudhiṣṭhira now to give up the fight and leave the kingdom to the Kauravas, he would obey. There was nothing the Pāṇḍavas would not do to satisfy their elders. If only Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons were like these virtuous brothers this horrible carnage would never have happened. Yet here was Kṛṣṇa. It was surely His desire and arrangement that all the earth’s kings and warriors be destroyed. So many of them were, after all, atheistic, even demonic. Obviously, He wanted to relieve the earth’s burden.
After a few moments, Bhīṣma said, “O son of Kuntī, as long as I am alive you will not gain victory. I tell you this truly. Strike me down and victory will be yours. I will permit you, O sons of Kuntī, to strike me as you please. When I am slaughtered, then all the others on our side will be overcome.”
Yudhiṣṭhira spoke with difficulty. “Please tell us in detail how we may achieve this apparently impossible feat, O wise man. We could perhaps vanquish Indra, thunderbolt in hand, or Yamarāja wielding his mace, but you appear to be invincible.”
Bhīṣma held up his hands. “It is as you say, O King. When with these hands I clutch weapons and stand to fight, none can withstand me. Only when I lower my weapons will I be approachable. Here is my vow, which I will not break: ‘I will not raise weapons against one who is weaponless, one whose armor and standard are shattered, one who flies away in fear, one who surrenders, one who has only one son, one who is disabled, a woman, or one who bears the name of a woman.’ O son of Pāṇḍu, I will fight with none of these at any time.”
Bhīṣma placed a hand on Yudhiṣṭhira’s shoulder as he spelled out his meaning. “Drupada’s valiant and wrathful son, who is known in your army as Śikhaṇḍī--it is he who will cause my fall. Formerly he was a woman, as everyone knows. Therefore, I will not strike him, even if he attacks me. Place him at the forefront of the fight and let Arjuna stand behind him. Only Dhanañjaya or the illustrious Kṛṣṇa can bring me down in battle. If Śikhaṇḍī faces me, I will not fight. Then it will be possible for Arjuna to slay me. Do this, O Yudhiṣṭhira, and gain victory.”
When Bhīṣma stopped speaking the Pāṇḍavas rose from their seats. Bowing before him one by one, they touched his feet and asked his permission to leave. Kṛṣṇa also placed His hands on Bhīṣma’s feet and bowed to the floor before him. Then they all left the tent, leaving Bhīṣma alone. As they made their way back to their own camp, Arjuna spoke with Kṛṣṇa. His face was flushed and his voice choked as he addressed his friend. “O Vāsudeva, while playing in my childhood I would soil the high-souled Bhīṣma’s garments by climbing onto his lap. Clambering on his body I would say, ‘Father.’ That hero would then gently reply, ‘I am not your father, but your father’s father, O Bharata.’ How can I slay him, O Madhava? Let him kill our troops. I cannot kill him under any circumstances. What do You think, O Kṛṣṇa?”
Kṛṣṇa’s voice was firm. “O Jiṣṇu, having promised to kill Bhīṣma in battle, how can you now avoid that without transgressing your kṣatriya duties? Overthrow him, O son of Kuntī. Without slaying Gaṅgā’s son in battle, you can never hope to win this war. It has been ordained by the gods that Bhīṣma will soon go to Death’s abode. Only you can bring him down. Do not hesitate.
“Hear from Me an ancient instruction given by Bṛhaspati: ‘One should slay even an aged man or an elder, or one endowed with all virtues, if he comes as an enemy, or indeed anyone else who comes for one’s destruction.’ This is the eternal duty of kṣatriyas, O Dhanañjaya. Fighting, protecting the subjects, and performing sacrifices--all without maliciousness--are their sacred duties.”
Arjuna looked ahead into the darkness as they rode across the field. He knew he could not avoid this fight, especially as Kṛṣṇa repeatedly urged him on. Clearly it was his duty. Only sentiment held him back. Somehow he had to get past that. Clutching the reins of his white horse, Arjuna replied dourly, “Surely, O Kṛṣṇa, Śikhaṇḍī has been born for Bhīṣma’s death. As soon as Bhīṣma sees him he will drop his weapons. Therefore, as Bhīṣma has suggested, let us place Śikhaṇḍī at the front as we attack the grandfather. I will then do the needful.”
The Pāṇḍavas returned to their camp with mixed feelings. They now knew that victory would be theirs before long, but only at the cost of Bhīṣma’s life. Censuring Duryodhana and his old father, they entered their tents to rest for the night.
* * *
After describing to Dhṛtarāṣṭra the fights which resulted in the death of his sons, Sañjaya fell silent. The blind king was weeping again, beating his chest and tossing about on his great throne. “Alas, everything is my fault. Why did I not listen to Vidura? Where is my learned brother now? Where will all this end, O Sañjaya? What refuge is there for an old and weary man, bereft of his sons and other relations?”
Sañjaya tried to console the monarch as he vented his grief. He had little to say. The battle was taking its inevitable course. Dhṛtarāṣṭra had been told many times about the outcome. Now Bhīma was systematically destroying his sons, just as he had vowed. But would even that make Dhṛtarāṣṭra realize his fault? His self-condemnation was certainly nothing new. Every time the Kauravas suffered a reverse he expressed his remorse, but those feelings dissolved whenever he heard that they had won a battle.
As the king’s sobbing subsided, Sañjaya continued describing the battle in full. Sure enough, as he described how Bhīṣma was coursing through the battle like Death personified, the king was enlivened. He sat forward and listened carefully as Sañjaya told him how the grandfather had routed the Pāṇḍava troops.
Then Sañjaya told him of the episode in Bhīṣma’s tent. Dhṛtarāṣṭra was aghast. “Why has our grandsire revealed how he may die? How can that be his duty? I think he has become weary of the fight. Surely he is favoring Pāṇḍu’s sons over mine. Alas, I do not think I will be able to hear of the next day’s fighting, bringing as it will the fall of such a hero.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s wails again filled the empty chamber where he and Sañjaya sat. They echoed mournfully around the hall as Sañjaya looked across at the ornate seat where Bhīṣma used to sit.
2.12: The Fall of Bhīṣma
As sunrise approached on the tenth day, the sounds of thousands of drums, cymbals, conches, and trumpets filled the air. Donning their armor and taking up their blood-stained weapons, the warriors came forward for battle. The Pāṇḍavas arranged for Śikhaṇḍī to ride in his chariot at the forefront of their formation. Bhīma and Arjuna protected his two flanks and behind him came Abhimanyu and Draupadī’s sons. Then, spreading out in a fan behind them, all the Pañchālas, headed by Dṛṣṭadyumna, Sātyaki and Chekitana, stood ready to fight. Other powerful rathas and maharathas protected the formation’s key points. With a joyful roar they rushed at the Kauravas.
Bhīṣma stood at the center of the Kaurava formation. Duryodhana ordered his best fighters to surround and protect him. He knew the Pāṇḍavas would target him. Until they checked Bhīṣma, their success would be uncertain. Duryodhana himself stayed close to his grandfather, carefully watching the Pāṇḍavas’ moves.
As the two armies clashed, the slaughter began. Knowing that it would likely be his last day, Bhīṣma made one final and supreme effort. If he were to fall, then he should go down fighting to the best of his ability. He let loose his arrows on the Pāṇḍava troops in incessant showers, and countless men, horses and elephants fell under his assault. It began to seem as if Bhīṣma was present everywhere as he wheeled about in the battle.
All five Pāṇḍavas went toward him, awed by his power. They honored him in their minds. With depressed hearts they gazed at him even as the gods had gazed at Vṛtrasura. He was consuming their forces like a fire swallowing a forest.
Standing between Bhīma and Arjuna, Śikhaṇḍī roared out his challenge and sent three arrows at Bhīṣma. They struck him on the chest, penetrating his armor. Bhīṣma felt his anger rise, but with a slight smile he called out, “O Śikhaṇḍī, I will never strike you in this fight. You are even now the same person the Creator made you before and are no match for me.”
Śikhaṇḍī was infuriated by Bhīṣma’s words. “You are the destroyer of kṣatriyas, O mighty-armed hero. I have heard of your fight with Paraśurāma and have seen for myself your prowess. Still, I will fight with you. Whether you fight back or not, I will slay you in battle. Know this for certain, O afflicter of foes. Take a good view of this world while you can, for you will not escape from me with your life.”
Śikhaṇḍī at once fired five more arrows that pierced Bhīṣma in the shoulder joint. Wincing, Bhīṣma turned away from Śikhaṇḍī and attacked the warriors surrounding him.
Arjuna came up next to Śikhaṇḍī and said, “Maintain your assault on the grandfather, mighty-armed hero. He will not be able to harm you. I will protect you from any other fighters who come to his aid. Today we must lay Bhīṣma low or face the derision of our own men.”
Śikhaṇḍī longed for Bhīṣma to fight with him. He sent clusters of swift arrows at the Kuru commander, striking him all over, but Bhīṣma did not respond. Moving back and around in a circle, Bhīṣma avoided Śikhaṇḍī and at the same time rained down his shafts on the Pāṇḍavas. He was supported by a huge division of elephant warriors and thousands of charioteers. Duryodhana personally marshaled his forces around Bhīṣma, ensuring that he was carefully guarded on all sides.
With a roar Arjuna charged into the fray. Shooting countless arrows he carved a path through the Kauravas. As he ranged about, leaving in his wake a trail of destruction, Duryodhana was alarmed and approached Bhīṣma. “O sire, behold how my troops are being routed by the enraged Arjuna. As a herdsman belabors his herd with a cudgel, so Arjuna belabors my troops with his Gāṇḍīva. O mighty hero, I see no other shelter than your illustrious self.”
Bhīṣma lowered his bow and looked at Duryodhana. “O best of men, hear my words. Before the battle began I vowed I would slaughter ten thousand men a day. I have kept my vow. Now I will make one final promise. Today, either I will kill the Pāṇḍavas or they will kill me. Thus I will liquidate the debt I owe you, arising from the food you gave me, by throwing off my mortal coil in the thick of battle.”
Without another word Bhīṣma moved off and began scattering arrows among the Pāṇḍava forces. Like the sun drawing moisture with its rays, he robbed the strength of all heroes who approached him. Having slain ten thousand swift-moving elephants and ten thousand chargers with their riders, as well as a full one hundred thousand infantry, he stood on the field like a smokeless fire. The Pāṇḍavas could not look at him.
Arjuna again enthused Śikhaṇḍī. “Go toward Bhīṣma, O hero. Do not fear. I will dislodge him from his chariot with my sharp arrows.”
Śikhaṇḍī again challenged Bhīṣma, followed by Dṛṣṭadyumna, Abhimanyu, Drupada, and Virata. Arjuna, Yudhiṣṭhira, and the twins flanked them and joined the charge. The Kuru warriors, however, checked their advance. There was a terrible encounter between the enraged warriors. Arrows, lances, darts, and maces flew threw the air, and the screams of the soldiers mixing with the clash of the weapons was intolerable.
With Śikhaṇḍī before him, Arjuna steadily approached Bhīṣma. Seeing him moving determinedly toward the grandfather, Dushashana came before him. He checked Arjuna with a volley of shafts. Dismissing fear from his mind, he withstood the Pāṇḍava like the shore resisting the ocean. The two fighters contended like Indra and Mayasura meeting in the celestial realm in the days of yore. Dushashana stopped Arjuna with twenty-five shafts, then struck Kṛṣṇa with three more. Incensed at seeing Kṛṣṇa attacked, Arjuna sped a hundred long shafts at Dushashana. Penetrating his armor they drank his blood and made him gasp with pain. Without delay he sent back three arrows that struck Arjuna on the forehead. As blood streamed down his face, Arjuna was as beautiful as Mount Meru with its towering crests stained with red oxides.
Laughing loudly, Arjuna cut Dushashana’s bow with three crescent-headed shafts fired simultaneously. He followed that at once with fifty more hammer-headed arrows that smashed the Kaurava’s chariot. Arjuna shot a hundred more spiked arrows toward Dushashana as his chariot fell apart around him. Without losing his composure, Dushashana resisted Arjuna’s attack by firing his own razor-headed shafts, which cut down Arjuna’s arrows in mid-air. All the warriors who saw this marvelous feat cheered Dushashana. The Kaurava prince felt encouraged and launched another twenty arrows at Arjuna. Struck by his shafts, Arjuna blazed up in fury. He sent so many arrows at Dushashana that the prince was forced to flee. With his body pierced all over, he ran three hundred paces and mounted Bhīṣma’s chariot.
With all their principal warriors at their head, both armies faced each other for a violent exchange of weapons. Bhīṣma was backed by Duryodhana, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, and all the other Kuru heroes, while the five Pāṇḍavas, backed by Dṛṣṭadyumna, Śikhaṇḍī, Sātyaki, Abhimanyu, and the other Pāṇḍava fighters, all stood against them. They fought like the gods and Asuras.
Watching the fight, Droṇa spoke to his son, who was stationed by his side, “It seems, my dear Aśvatthāmā, that Arjuna will exert himself fully to destroy Bhīṣma. See how he targets the grandfather again and again, keeping Śikhaṇḍī by his side. I am seeing many evil omens. My arrows seem to fall from my quiver and will not fit themselves to my bow. I feel my enthusiasm wane. All around us I hear the cries of carnivorous birds and beasts. Even the earth seems to cry out in pain and the sun is dimmed. Though clad in bright armor, the kings on our side do not shine. All these signs indicate that our illustrious sire will soon fall.”
Droṇa urged his son to challenge Arjuna. “This is not the time when dependents should think of their own lives. Fixing your mind on heaven, dear son, confront the roaring Dhanañjaya. That diadem-decked hero is agitating our army like a storm tossing the ocean. Listen to the cries of men and the constant crack of his bowstring. Go quickly and exert yourself fully to check your godbrother before he destroys us all.”
Aśvatthāmā moved off at once, supported by Śalya, Kṛpa, and Bhagadatta, along with another six Kaurava maharathas. All ten warriors advanced in a body toward Arjuna. Bhīma challenged them when he saw their intention. All ten of them trained their weapons on the powerful Pāṇḍava, but he remained unmoved by their attack. He cheerfully assailed every one of them with his own arrows, each of which resembled one of Indra’s blazing lances. The Kaurava warriors found themselves completely engaged by Bhīma alone. With roars of delight he held them all at bay.
As other battles raged around him, Arjuna focused on Bhīṣma’s chariot. After beating back an attack from Susharma and his brother Citrasena, he rushed at Bhīṣma like an elephant rushing at another for the sake of a mate. Quickly, Bhagadatta placed his elephant in Arjuna’s way, but the Pāṇḍava sent it reeling with a volley of swift arrows. Then Śikhaṇḍī was again before Bhīṣma. He rained countless arrows on his chariot. Still Bhīṣma refused to fight with him. Instead, he bore his attack patiently while maintaining his assault on the soldiers supporting him. Bhīṣma resembled Rudra at the end of the creation. No one who came within range of his arrows escaped. Only Arjuna was able to withstand his attack and approach him, along with Śikhaṇḍī, who was still unharmed.
When only Arjuna and Śikhaṇḍī were left standing against Bhīṣma, Śikhaṇḍī pierced him in the chest with ten broad-headed arrows. Bhīṣma gazed at him as if to burn him by that look, but he did not attack. Urged on by Arjuna, Śikhaṇḍī attacked Bhīṣma more and more fiercely. Arjuna also shot his golden-winged arrows at the grandsire. Bhīṣma fought only Arjuna, disregarding Śikhaṇḍī’s arrows, which wounded him in every part of his body.
As Arjuna and Śikhaṇḍī bore down on Bhīṣma, Dushashana came again to protect him. Cheered by the Kauravas, he singledhandedly resisted the arrows of Bhīṣma’s two assailants. Other charioteers came up to support Arjuna, but Dushashana struck them down. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s second son exhibited his prowess, allowing Duryodhana to marshal more troops for Bhīṣma’s protection.
Arjuna was infuriated. Losing all patience, he sent arrows that struck Dushashana like thunderbolts and tore off his armor, sending it crashing to the ground. The Kaurava fell from his chariot, then got up and ran. By then, a large force of Kaurava warriors had come to surround Bhīṣma. Numerous tribes of barbarians, clad in animal skins and clutching bludgeons and spears, rushed at Arjuna. Thousands of other soldiers galloped forward screaming their battle cries and hurling spiked lances. Not caring for their attack, Arjuna sent flaming arrows charged with mystic power. Sheets of fire-tipped shafts swept through the barbarian ranks. They fell by the thousands, making the ground impassable. Those that were not slain turned back and fled.
Arjuna again turned his attention to Bhīṣma, who was now supported by Duryodhana, Kṛpa, Śalya, and a number of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s other sons. All those Kuru heroes trained their arrows on Arjuna.
The other four Pāṇḍavas attacked Bhīṣma’s protectors. Numerous Kaurava fighters were struck down by Pāṇḍu’s sons as they fired their searing shafts.
Bhīṣma and Arjuna contended like two lions. Neither could find any gap in their opponent’s defenses. Both invoked celestial weapons which the other neutralized. Each praised the other’s prowess as they fought.
Arjuna covered Bhīṣma’s chariot with arrows. Taking the opportunity, other Pāṇḍava fighters came forward to support Arjuna. Backed by innumerable chariots, Bhīma, the twins, Dṛṣṭadyumna, Sātyaki, Abhimanyu, Ghaṭotkaca, and other principal Pāṇḍava warriors pressed forward in the battle. Duryodhana and the best of the Kauravas’ warriors met them.
Coming out from underneath Arjuna’s attack, Bhīṣma assailed every one of the heroes who came toward him. With one razor-headed shaft he slew Satanika, Virata’s beloved brother. Bhīṣma rained down death- dealing shafts that destroyed Satanika’s entire division of chariot-warriors. At the same time he held off Arjuna’s attack as well as the attacks of other fighters. The Kuru commander seemed to be sporting as he battled against the hundreds of warriors. He danced on the terrace of his chariot as if he had regained his youth. Like the rising sun dispersing clouds, he dispersed the Pāṇḍava forces with his sun-like arrows.
Untouched by Bhīṣma’s attack, Śikhaṇḍī moved closer to his chariot. From time to time Bhīṣma threw a deriding glance at him, but he focused his energy on slaughtering the Pāṇḍava forces. He knew the Pāṇḍavas had decided to bring him down today, and they pressed in on him on all sides. Like clouds covering the sun, they surrounded the old Kuru fighter and threw their weapons at him. Spiked and razor-headed arrows, battle-axes, maces, mallets, lances, bludgeons, darts and javelins fell toward Bhīṣma, but Bhīṣma only smiled. His armor was shattered and he had been pierced many times. Oblivious to pain, he fought on, embracing a hero’s end. His chariot wheeling in the midst of his attackers, he spun around and fired arrows in all directions.
Sensing that it was now time to defeat Bhīṣma, Arjuna again placed Śikhaṇḍī in front of him and rushed forward. With a perfectly aimed arrow he cut apart Bhīṣma’s bow. As the maharathas of both armies engaged, Arjuna and Śikhaṇḍī came before Bhīṣma, both of them firing barbed arrows that pierced him deeply. Arjuna killed his horses and charioteer and brought his chariot to a halt. With a crescent-headed arrow he brought down his standard.
Bhīṣma took up another bow worked with gold and ivory, but Arjuna immediately shattered it. Without a second’s delay, Bhīṣma hurled a lance at Arjuna, but Arjuna fired five broad-headed arrows that broke the lance into six pieces. They fell to earth like forks of lightning.
Arjuna thwarted all of Bhīṣma’s weapons. Bhīṣma looked at Kṛṣṇa, who was expertly guiding Arjuna’s swift-footed horses. Bhīṣma knew it was the end, as fate had ordained. He could not win a battle when Kṛṣṇa was on the opposite side. Even though Kṛṣṇa was not fighting, His mere presence was sufficient to ensure the Pāṇḍavas’ invincibility. Bhīṣma lowered his weapons. All his skill and power would prove to no avail now. Bhīṣma began to think of death. In the heavens the assembled ṛṣis, along with the eight Vasus, addressed Bhīṣma. “We also desire that you stop fighting. Withdraw your heart from the battle. It is time.” Bhīṣma alone heard the heavenly voices.
Suddenly a cool, fragrant breeze began to blow. Celestial drums resounded and flowers fell from the sky. As Bhīṣma stood in thought, Śikhaṇḍī raised his bow and shot nine shafts that struck him full on the chest. At the same time, Arjuna fired twenty-five short, thick arrows that struck Bhīṣma with tremendous power. Arjuna quickly followed them with a hundred steel shafts. Stunned, Bhīṣma resolved to make one final assault on Arjuna. He would go down fighting. There could be no other way. Firing a volley of shafts, Bhīṣma thwarted the attacks of both Arjuna and Śikhaṇḍī. Arjuna quickly cut Bhīṣma’s bow. With hot tears pricking his eyes he fired thousands of straight shafts and pierced Bhīṣma’s mighty frame, like snakes enter the holes in mountains.
Although both Arjuna and Śikhaṇḍī shot their arrows at Bhīṣma simultaneously, the Kuru hero considered that only Arjuna’s shafts were capable of bringing him down. He called out to Dushashana, who had rushed to his side, “These arrows, O Bharata, resembling thunderbolts and coming at me in a straight line end-to-end, are Arjuna’s and not Śikhaṇḍī’s. I can distinguish between them because they have the touch like a Brahmin’s rod, or of Indra’s Vajra weapon. Even the gods could not resist them. Like furious snakes with protruding eyes, they are penetrating my vital organs. Only Arjuna is capable of bringing me down. Even the world’s monarchs united could not afflict me.”
With one last supreme effort, Bhīṣma raised a massive lance and hurled it at Arjuna with all his strength. Arjuna cut it into a hundred pieces. Bending the Gāṇḍīva to a full circle, he fired arrows twenty at a time in a continuous line. Seeing Śikhaṇḍī directly before him, Bhīṣma lowered his weapons and did not resist Arjuna’s attack. Arrows struck him in waves. There was no space thicker than two finger’s width on his body that was not pierced. Before the Kauravas’ shocked eyes, he fell headlong from his chariot. With his head pointed toward the east he lay fully supported by Arjuna’s arrows. No part of his body touched the earth.
The Kuru army was overwhelmed by sorrow. Cries of grief rippled across the field. From the sky a celestial voice resounded: “How can this hero, this illustrious son of Gaṅgā, leave his body when the sun is in its inauspicious southern course?”
Hearing that voice, Bhīṣma replied, “I am still living.” He had noted the course of the sun and, by his father’s boon, had decided to wait until it moved toward the north before dying. He knew the Vedic instructions that a yogī should leave his body only when the sun was in its northern track. Until then he would lie on the battlefield, as befitted a warrior, awaiting his final moment. Death would not take him until he desired it.
Duryodhana and his followers were utterly confused. They did not know what to do or where to go. They dropped their weapons and wailed. As the sun reached the western horizon, the Kauravas stood about the battlefield dispirited and afflicted by grief. No one could find the strength to move for some time.
On the side of the Pāṇḍavas conches were blown and soldiers cheered. Thousands of drums were beaten and trumpets and horns sounded. Word of Bhīṣma’s fall spread around the battlefield in moments. The warriors of both armies stopped fighting and stood wherever they were, their minds stunned by the impossible news. Some men wept aloud, others ran wildly around, and some swooned.
Assuming the forms of swans, celestial ṛṣis descended from the heavens and walked around the fallen Bhīṣma, who lay with his mind absorbed in yogic meditation. Seers, Siddhas and Cāraṇas praised Bhīṣma from the skies. As darkness fell, the earth seemed to cry out: “This one is the best of all Veda-knowing sages.”
Duryodhana breathed long and heavy sighs. He rode swiftly to Droṇa, who had been taken to a distance from Bhīṣma, and told him of his fall. Hearing the news, Droṇa fell from his chariot in a faint. When he returned to his senses he ordered the Kauravas to withdraw. Duryodhana, Droṇa, Kṛpa, and all the other Kuru leaders made their way sorrowfully toward where Bhīṣma lay.
Seeing Bhīṣma at last felled, Bhīma leapt from his chariot and danced on the battlefield. Arjuna, however, was sober. He asked Kṛṣṇa to drive his chariot over to the Kuru chief. Dismounting with bow in hand he went over to the fallen warrior and knelt by his side. “Please instruct me what I can do for you, O sire,” he asked, struggling to control his voice as his grief rose. “Command me at once and consider it done.”
Bhīṣma opened his eyes. He spoke with difficulty. “O Phālguna, see how my head is hanging down. Fetch me a suitable pillow, O hero. You alone are equal to this task.”
Understanding Bhīṣma’s desire, Arjuna lifted his bow and fired several arrows, charged by Vedic mantras. The arrows stuck in the ground beneath Bhīṣma’s head and formed a headrest. Bhīṣma smiled. His arms were pierced all over and resting on arrows, but he raised his right hand from the wrist to bless Arjuna. “O son of Pāṇḍu, you have properly understood my desire. This is the only fitting pillow for a warrior slain on the battlefield.”
Bhīṣma looked around. He was surrounded both by Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas. They stood with folded palms and gazed at his face. Duryodhana and his brothers were shamefaced. They had failed to protect their finest fighter and the leader of their forces. The old grandfather and Kuru guide had fallen. Remorse consumed Duryodhana’s heart. It was by his insistence only that this war had had to be fought and Bhīṣma be slain.
Seeing the Kauravas’ shame and sorrow, Bhīṣma reassured them. “I have attained the end which is always sought by heroes. This bed is to me no less than an excellent bed of the finest down and silk. Soon I will see my ever-living ancestors in the blissful realms of paradise. Why should I lament?”
As Bhīṣma spoke, a number of skilled physicians arrived carrying herbs and balms. Bhīṣma raised his head to speak, his rasping voice barely rising above a whisper. “O kings of the earth, after paying proper respects to these Brahmins who know mantras, and then rewarding them, please dismiss them. I have no more need of physicians. My end has come and I am ready for it. It is not my duty to allow myself to be treated by these physicians. I want to die from these arrows. Let me lie here until the sun reaches the point of the compass occupied by Vaishravana. Then I will depart for the higher regions.” Bhīṣma’s head fell back onto the arrows and he closed his eyes.
Duryodhana sent the Brahmins away. He stood for some time in silence, looking at the fallen hero. Then, sighing, he and his brothers and all the kings supporting the Kauravas circumambulated Bhīṣma three times. They slowly made their way back to camp, seeing nothing but desolation before them.
The Pāṇḍavas also offered respects to Bhīṣma before returning to their camp. As they went, Yudhiṣṭhira said to Kṛṣṇa , “O Janārdana, surely victory comes to a man through Your grace, and defeat overtakes him through Your wrath. You are our sole refuge. You assure Your devotees of Your protection. Nothing is wonderful for one who has taken shelter of You, O Madhava.”
Kṛṣṇa replied, “These words, O foremost of all the earth’s rulers, could only have fallen from your lips.”
Feeling sure that they would soon attain victory, the Pāṇḍavas rested for the night while the Kauravas lay tossing in grief.
2.13: Droṇa in Command
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s pitiful voice echoed around his great chamber. “How has Bhīṣma fallen? He who had arrows for teeth, a bow for a mouth, a sword for a tongue--that chastiser of foes who spread terror and destruction among the enemy ranks as the sun destroys darkness, who was as invincible in battle as the mighty Indra, who could keep death itself under his control--how has he fallen? How did Śikhaṇḍī and Arjuna bring about his end?”
The king was inconsolable. Sañjaya was himself grieving, and he sat at Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s feet with his head bowed. Crying, the blind monarch continued. “After destroying the enemy troops for ten days, achieving the most difficult feats, he has now set like the sun. As a result of my evil councils, that scion of Bharata scattered an inexhaustible shower of arrows as Indra showers rain, killing in battle hundreds of thousands of warriors. He now lies on the bare ground like a great tree uprooted by the wind. How could he--whom even Paraśurāma could not master, that atiratha of boundless power--have been overcome in battle? O Sañjaya, surely nothing is wonderful in this world when I hear that Bhīṣma is fallen!”
The king asked Sañjaya to describe in detail how Bhīṣma had been brought down. Sañjaya had only told him the news of Bhīṣma’s defeat and not the details of how it had come about. Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened in horror as Sañjaya related the events leading up to Bhīṣma’s fall. Tears sprang from Sañjaya’s eyes as he envisioned the scene again. When Sañjaya finished his description, Dhṛtarāṣṭra again lamented.
“Surely my heart is made of stone since it does not shatter upon hearing this news. Truth, intelligence, and political wisdom existed immeasurably in the illustrious Bhīṣma. Who could have defeated him? Surely my sons are crying in grief now that he is gone. Like men desiring to cross the ocean, but who see their boat sunk, they must be plunged in woe. Our army must be like a panic-stricken herd of cattle deprived of its herdsman. When we have caused the death of our powerful father, the foremost of virtuous men, what use are our lives?”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra sat in silence in the darkened chamber. His personal servants stood nearby, their cāmaras hanging limply by their sides. The soft strains of mournful music could be heard, along with the Brahmins’ continuous chanting of Vedic prayers in the palace temple.
After some minutes, the king asked Sañjaya to repeat the details of the battle. “I desire to know of all the particulars of Bhīṣma’s final day. Who fought by his side and who at his rear? What did my sons do to protect that hero? What other fights took place as Bhīṣma faced the Pāṇḍavas? Without knowing every last detail I will not be able to rest, Sañjaya.”
Sañjaya described everything again. Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened with rapt attention. When Sañjaya finished, it was almost morning. The king had no desire to go to his bed. He said, “Clearly we cannot avoid death by any means. All-powerful Time ultimately consumes all in this world. O Sañjaya, please tell me what my sons did after Bhīṣma’s fall. Who did they select as their commander? How did they find the strength to continue?”
As the sunrise approached, Sañjaya told the king what had happened at the end of the tenth day. Then both men left to perform their ablutions, Dhṛtarāṣṭra being led away by his servants to his bath chamber. After their religious rituals and prayers, they returned to the hall and Sañjaya began to describe the events of the eleventh day.
* * *
After all the kings had left Bhīṣma, Karṇa quietly left his tent and rode across the battlefield. As the moon rose in the eastern sky, he picked his way on his red charger through the eerily lit scenes of destruction. Vultures flapped into the air and hyenas growled as he made his way toward the spot where Bhīṣma lay on his bed of arrows. It was easy to find; a hundred warriors surrounded him and had lit torches to keep the animals away.
Karṇa dismounted and fell at Bhīṣma’s feet. He spoke in a choked voice. “I am Radha’s son, O foremost of Kurus. I am he upon whom you always looked with enmity.”
Bhīṣma opened his eyes and turned toward Karṇa. Dismissing the guards, he told him to come closer. He spoke affectionately. “Come, dear son. You were always my opponent because you sought always to outdo me. If you had not come here, then all would not have fared well for you.”
Bhīṣma felt no anger toward Karṇa. He had reprimanded him only out of genuine concern for him. The old Kuru chief knew who Karṇa was and had always desired his welfare. He lifted his head slightly. “O mighty-armed one, you are the son of Kuntī--not Radha. Adhiratha is not your father--the mighty sun-god sired you, O hero. This I have heard from both Nārada and Vyasa. It cannot be false. O child, I bear you no malice. I spoke harshly only to check you. Seeing that you would abuse the Pāṇḍavas for no reason at all, I tried to curb a behavior that would lead only to your own grief.”
Karṇa knelt by Bhīṣma’s side, his eyes dim with tears at the sight of Bhīṣma’s condition. Despite their many arguments, he had always respected the grandfather. He could not deny Bhīṣma’s nobility and power, and he knew his words were never malicious, even if they were hard to accept.
Bhīṣma closed his eyes in pain, then continued. “O Karṇa, your birth was attended with sin. Thus your intellect has always been perverted through no fault of your own. For this reason I tried to correct you in the assembly of kṣatriyas. Yet your prowess and might are equal to those of Arjuna. You are devoted to the Brahmins, attached to the duties of your order, and are in no way inferior to a celestial. Today I relinquish any wrath I formerly felt for you. If you wish to do me good, then join with your brothers, the Pāṇḍavas. Let the hostilities cease with my fall. Along with Duryodhana, be reconciled with the Pāṇḍavas and let us see all the world’s kings freed from anxiety and danger.”
Karṇa’s head fell. “I know all this, O mighty-armed hero. I know I am Kuntī’s son. But she disowned me and I was raised by a charioteer. Having enjoyed Duryodhana’s wealth and friendship for so long, how can I disappoint his hopes? Setting at naught my wealth, sons, wife, and even my body and honor, I will strive for Duryodhana’s good. To serve his interests I have incited the Pāṇḍavas against me. The result is inevitable and cannot now be avoided. What man ventures to overcome destiny by his own endeavor?”
Karṇa looked around the moonlit field. It was littered with bodies. The next day he would fight. He had waited long. Each day hearing of the fight and how many of Duryodhana’s soldiers were being slaughtered, Karṇa had felt increasingly frustrated. He longed to show his friend his gratitude for everything he had done for him. Now his chance had come. Folding his palms, he said, “O Sire, I cannot renounce the hostility I feel for the Pāṇḍavas. Although I know them to be invincible, protected by Vasudeva’s powerful son, I will nevertheless fight against them. Please give me your permission. Please also forgive any cruel words I may have uttered against you.”
Bhīṣma looked into Karṇa’s face and saw his determination. “If you cannot give up your enmity for the Pāṇḍavas, then, O Karṇa, I grant you my permission. Fixing your mind on heaven, fight with them to the best of your power. Arjuna will deliver you to the blessed regions reserved for heroes who do not retreat. Casting off arrogance and depending on your own prowess, go forth and seek a warrior’s death. What can be more glorious for a kṣatriya? Go with my blessings. I forgive any harsh words you may have addressed to me.”
Bhīṣma again closed his eyes. Karṇa rose and mounted his horse. In a few moments he had vanished into the darkness, leaving Bhīṣma lying once more in yogic meditation.
* * *
Immediately after sunrise on the eleventh day, both the Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas went to see Bhīṣma. After paying their obeisances, they stood by as maidservants smeared his forehead and temples with sandalwood paste. The servants also sprinkled him with unbroken paddy and placed fragrant garlands of forest flowers around his neck. Thousands of people came from the encampments to see Bhīṣma lying on his bed of arrows. They marveled at his fortitude and determination. Like a great ascetic who, having fasted for years, keeps his life force circling within his bones, the Kuru chief awaited his final moment.
Putting aside their armor and weapons, the soldiers of the two armies gathered around the fallen hero. Bhīṣma opened his eyes and looked around, moving his head slightly. He lifted his hand and said, “Please bring me water.”
Hearing Bhīṣma address them in a rasping voice, the Kauravas quickly fetched jars of cool water. They also brought food, which they set out before him.
Bhīṣma shook his head. “I will no longer accept articles of human enjoyment. I have passed away from the society of men and am lying here on an arrow bed only until the moment is right for me to die. Where is Arjuna?”
Arjuna stepped forward and stood with folded hands before Bhīṣma. “What would you have me do, O Grandsire?”
“My body is burning. I am pierced all over with your arrows and feeling extreme pain. My mouth is dry and I desire to drink water which only you can supply.”
Taking the Gāṇḍīva from his shoulder, Arjuna said, “Yes, I will bring you water.” He walked around Bhīṣma three times, then fixed a bright golden arrow to his bow. After chanting a number of Vedic aphorisms and empowering the arrow with the celestial Parjanya weapon, he fired it into the earth close to Bhīṣma’s head. At once a jet of pure, cool water gushed out. The nectar-like water rose up in a fountain and went directly into Bhīṣma’s mouth.
A gasp went up from the assembled kṣatriyas. They cheered and waved their garments. The Kauravas shivered in fear as they saw Arjuna’s skill.
After slaking his thirst, Bhīṣma said, “O mighty-armed hero, your act was not wonderful because you are the ancient sage Nara incarnate. You are the best of all archers and, along with Kṛṣṇa, can perform deeds that even the gods cannot accomplish. You possess every celestial weapon.”
Bhīṣma looked at Duryodhana. “O son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, see here Arjuna’s prowess. None can defeat him in battle, even if they are assisted by the combined forces of the gods and Asuras. Therefore, let all enmity between you cease from today on. Let the war end with my fall. Give half the kingdom to Yudhiṣṭhira and live together in peace. This would be most beneficial to you and your dynasty. If through perverted understanding you do not heed my advice, you will soon regret your folly.”
Bhīṣma was finding it a strain to speak. His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. Duryodhana said nothing. Kara stood by his side, and he looked balefully at Arjuna. It was clear that the battle would continue. The kings paid their respects to Bhīṣma once more and returned to their camps. Pulling on their armor, cleaned and polished after the previous day’s fight, they mounted their horses and chariots. They rode out solemnly toward the battlefield, followed by waves of infantry clad in mail and wielding spears and swords. Great elephants rocked about and trumpeted furiously. As the vast armies amassed, conches were blown and drums beaten.
In his tent Karṇa was attended by a number of servants. They fetched his effulgent armor, studded with hundreds of gems, and his bright helmet. With his mouth set in a firm line, Karṇa fitted his iguana-skin gloves and leather arm protectors. The servants loaded his chariot with thousands of oil-soaked arrows, with their heads of iron and steel. They also loaded onto the chariot fifty bows of the finest make, as well as swords, maces, axes, darts and lances.
Smeared with red sandal paste and garlanded with fresh flowers, Karṇa climbed aboard his chariot. All around him Brahmins performed Vedic rites to invoke auspiciousness. As he moved off, musicians beat kettledrums and blew trumpets. Standing on the broad terrace of his chariot, Karṇa said to his driver, “Take me at once to the place where Arjuna stands. Even if all-devouring Death protects him, he will not escape me. I will confront him in battle and either send him to the next world or go there myself, following Bhīṣma’s trail.”
Soon, Duryodhana joined Karṇa, and the two friends rode to the front of the Kuru forces. The other warriors were cheered by the sight, and they roared and twanged their bowstrings.
Seeing Karṇa shining like a smokeless fire, Duryodhana felt that his enemies were already slain. He smiled and said, “O foremost of men, in you I have found a suitable commander for my troops. Tell me now what you consider beneficial for our army. With Bhīṣma fallen, we have no leader. An army without a chief perishes like a rudderless boat on the high seas. Tell me who you feel should be commander-in-chief.”
Karṇa waved an arm toward the leading chariot fighters. “Practically any of these great warriors could head your army. They are all acquainted with martial science and possessed of undaunting prowess. Still, only one man can be our leader. We must be cautious not to depress those who are not chosen. Therefore, I feel we should select Droṇa. He is the oldest and most experienced. Indeed, he is the preceptor of many heroes fighting in this war. None will object to his command. As the gods, hoping to defeat the demons, made Kārttikeya their commander, so you should make Droṇa the chief of your army.”
Duryodhana agreed. He rode over to Droṇa. As the two men were worshipped and eulogized by bards and singers, Duryodhana said, “O great hero, among all this host of kings none can be as good a protector as you. You are a Brahmin and of noble birth. You know the Vedas, and your skill, power, and wisdom are unparalleled. Like Indra leading the celestials, become our commander-in-chief. Who can match you on the battlefield? Even Arjuna will not dare approach us with you at our head.”
Droṇa stood tall on his chariot, his great bow by his side. With his white hair and beard, and his silver armor, he shone like the moon on a clear night. Raising his hand in blessing, he replied, “I am versed in the Vedas and their six auxiliaries, and I know the science of weapons. I will therefore offer battle to Pāṇḍu’s sons. Conquering the Pañchāla and Somaka armies, I will range across the field striking terror into our enemies’ hearts. But, O monarch, I doubt I will be able to slay Dṛṣṭadyumna, for that hero was born to kill me.”
Not caring for the prophesy, Duryodhana arranged for the ceremony to install Droṇa as commander. Duryodhana himself could ensure that Dṛṣṭadyumna was kept away from Droṇa. In any event, it was hard to believe that the Pañchāla prince had the power to kill Droṇa. The two had already met on several occasions and Droṇa had proved more powerful every time. Perhaps the so-called prophesy would prove to be nothing more than a rumor.
With the investiture complete, the Kaurava troops sent up a shout and played their instruments in unison. With his head still wet from the sacred waters used in the ritual, Droṇa remounted his chariot and led the army into battle. Duryodhana rode by Droṇa’s side. As they proceeded toward the fight, Droṇa said, “O great King, I am honored by this office of commander-in-chief. I wish to repay you in some way. Please tell me what you desire and I will endeavor to accomplish it.”
Duryodhana thought for a moment and replied, “O preceptor, if you would give me a boon, then capture Yudhiṣṭhira and bring him to me.”
Droṇa looked surprised. “Fortunate is that eldest son of Kuntī that you desire his capture and not his death. Surely it is wonderful that not even you can feel malice toward him. Why, O monarch, do you not wish to kill him? Would not his death end this conflict and bring you victory? Could it be that, rather than killing the Pāṇḍavas, you wish to re-establish brotherly feelings among you?”
A sly grin played around Duryodhana’s mouth. “Yudhiṣṭhira’s death, O teacher, would not bring me victory. If he were killed, Arjuna would be so angry that he would utterly annihilate us. I have come to accept that even the immortals cannot slay all five brothers. Thus I see Yudhiṣṭhira’s capture as the means to secure my victory. With him under our control, the war will end. Again challenging him to dice, I will send all five brothers back to the woods. Thus will my victory be established.”
Droṇa gazed at the smiling Duryodhana for a moment. It was obvious he had experienced no change of heart. His mind was fixed. Still, Droṇa thought, he had a duty to perform. He took a deep breath. “If the heroic Arjuna does not protect Yudhiṣṭhira, then you may consider him captured; but if Arjuna stands before him, I will not be able to carry it out. Not even Indra with all the celestials could overpower Arjuna and capture Yudhiṣṭhira before his eyes. I may be his preceptor, but he is far younger in years and has acquired weapons known only to the best of the gods. You must somehow draw him away from Yudhiṣṭhira and then I will strive to take the king captive.”
Duryodhana cheered Droṇa. Knowing that he was partial to the Pāṇḍavas, the Kaurava leader broadcast Droṇa’s promise to all the other commanders. He wanted to ensure that Droṇa was held to his word. As the Kauravas heard of the plan, they shouted in joy. Surely victory would soon be theirs. Who could resist Droṇa?
The news of Duryodhana’s plan soon reached Yudhiṣṭhira. He called Arjuna to his side and said, “O foremost of men, you must now ensure that you are never far from me in the fight. Droṇa will be looking for his chance. The moment you are gone, he will charge toward me like a lion seeking its prey.”
Arjuna stood before his elder brother, clad from head to toe in his impenetrable armor. Lifting his Gāṇḍīva bow he replied, “I will not abandon you, O leader of men. Although I could never stand to see Droṇa killed, I will not allow him to take you captive as long as I live. The sky with all its stars may drop, the earth may shatter into fragments, but Droṇa will not capture you in my presence. Duryodhana’s plan is futile. Rest assured. O King, I am always endeavoring to keep my vows. Do not be afraid, therefore, of Droṇa.”
Arjuna mounted his chariot and took his place at the head of the army, along with Dṛṣṭadyumna and Abhimanyu. As they led their forces into battle, a deafening roar filled the four quarters. Surrounded by his other brothers, Yudhiṣṭhira followed close behind Arjuna, with the huge Pañchāla forces following him.
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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